


I'll Keep It With Mine

by complexhero



Series: My Boyfriend, My Boyfriend, and Me [1]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Bottom Clover Ebi, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Idiots in Love, It's a slow burn on that OT3 though, Love Triangles, M/M, Tags May Change, like...monumentally so, these boys are very dumb
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:22:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 54,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23800750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/complexhero/pseuds/complexhero
Summary: Nothing could ever go the way it should have. And so here Qrow was, in love with Clover. Who was in love with James. Who was in love with...the mission, Qrow guessed. How an actual human could pay any attention to anything that wasn't Clover Ebi, when the option freely presented itself, was beyond his comprehension.A season 7 AU where everyone is in love and no one is happy about it, until they are.
Relationships: Clover Ebi/James Ironwood, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi, Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi/James Ironwood, Qrow Branwen/James Ironwood
Series: My Boyfriend, My Boyfriend, and Me [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1862212
Comments: 257
Kudos: 134





	1. What You Call Love

**Author's Note:**

> *deep breath* 
> 
> So, this started as an AU from (Breaking Like) The Heart That's Stuck Inside My Skin. I was interested in a world where James had more of a shot, so maybe he came around after Clover's heat and they started something secret on the side. I think I quickly realized that the story didn't _need_ the ABO dynamics to make it tick. There was plenty of conflict just from James being Clover's CO. So here! The non-ABO AU where Clover and James have had an affair for some time. Ironically from my original intent, James...shoots himself in the foot almost immediately.
> 
> You do not have to have read any of my 'Broke Open Love' ABO verse to have made this work. Thus it is officially a standalone. A lot of Clover's backstory follows from that verse, without the dynamics, because...I love Clover's cousins. But I hope it's introduced slowly enough here that you'll get eased into it. It's a good deal less tragic, by necessity, but as a balance I kept Clover's asshole dad alive. Because angst.
> 
> I apologize to people who are waiting on the next chapter of Neverending Summer. It's been...a bit harder to work on that fic as of late. I had angst planned for the next chapter and that particular brand of social-isolation-induced trauma has been...hard to access, for me, this week. So...here's something completely different.

Clover liked to think he was a responsible guy. He was the leader of the Ace Operatives. He kept his team as safe and well-rested as he could, never risking their lives without a thorough consideration of the costs and benefits. He was a dedicated uncle to his niece and nephew. He remembered birthdays and the names of people’s kids and what kind of donuts everybody liked. His apartment was neat as a pin and he flossed twice a day.

So Clover could be forgiven, in his opinion, for having exactly one area of his life where he was a little reckless.

“ _James,_ please,” he groaned, as the other man teased him with his fingers. “I need you to…I need more…”

He hadn’t even come in here for this. What he’d _meant_ to do was drop by and give James his warning that he needed to stop working and eat eventually, and that he might as well do so with Clover a bit later once he wrapped training for the night. Instead he was bent over the desk with three fingers inside him, naked as the day he was born.

Clover didn’t even really _like_ fooling around in the office. At least, he didn’t seek it out. Sure, it was thrilling in the moment. It’s just that he was in here so often that if sex was on the table every single time, he’d never be able to focus on anything else. And then everyone would know Clover was sleeping with his boss, and all his credibility would be destroyed. So he tried, he really did, to keep his personal life separate from his professional.

The fact that James kept lube in his desk was a testament to how well that worked.

“Are you ready for me?” James asked, giving his fingers another delicious curl. Clover nodded, biting his lip, not trusting his voice. James tutted at him, as he pulled his fingers out. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to ask for it, Clover.”

The other man stroked his cock, lazy, slicking himself up but just resting the tip at Clover’s entrance.

“ _James,”_ he moaned.

“Hmm?”

“ _Please_ , James, I need your cock. I need you to fuck me now.”

Look, Clover wasn’t shy about asking for what he wanted, when he had to.

James _finally_ pushed in, agonizingly slow, letting Clover get used to the stretch. When he was fully seated, he rubbed Clover’s back, soothing. “You’re doing so good, taking my cock like that. Gods, you were made for this, weren’t you?”

Was it a little stereotypical? Sure. Plenty of people already referred to him as Ironwood’s attack dog. Or…something less respectful. It would probably surprise exactly no one that when James got all pushy and dominant like this, Clover found it _incredibly fucking hot._ Which is why nobody could know.

“Now, isn’t this better than whatever it was you were going to do?” James said, as he gave a few experimental shallow thrusts.

Whatever he was going to…he had been about to…what was he supposed to do, before James unceremoniously ordered him to strip? Work. Stop. Food. Later, after…

Training.

“Fuck, Qrow!” he said.

James growled, pulling out almost all the way and then thrusting in, sharply. “That’s _not_ my name,” he said, voice low.

Clover let out a yelp, as James pushed him forward and leaned over him. He dropped his head to where his forearms were braced against the desk as James fucked him.

“That’s not what I–fuck, that’s–mmmph!”

He cut himself off, hand flying to his mouth to suppress the involuntary noises. James just felt so _good_ inside him. The man was wickedly efficient at finding _exactly_ the right angle to bring Clover just to the edge.

James panted, half-collapsed over Clover, pressing a kiss to Clover’s sweaty neck. He shuddered at the feel of it. “James,” he moaned, “I’m supposed to train with Qrow in _ten minutes._ ”

“He can wait,” James murmured, his voice rough. Another sharp thrust had Clover crying out. “Just…tell him you were with me.”

Gods, the man was possessive. Clover wouldn’t put it past him to have orchestrated this whole thing. The other man licked at his neck again, teeth scraping over his skin. Clover whined, pinned in place.

He’d have to cancel. He couldn’t have James literally _dripping out of him_ when he was trying to spar with Qrow. Not that he’d be performing at his best, anyway. The desk was horribly uncomfortable, hard edges digging into his thighs. His poor neglected cock was pinned between his stomach and the desk. He needed at least one arm to support their weight–and James was _heavy_ , on top of him. The other could either touch himself or cover his mouth so the entire Academy wouldn’t hear what James was doing to him.

“You owe me,” he muttered, looking for his scroll. This would probably take a _little longer_ than ten minutes. It was just out of reach, in front of him, where his belt had landed on James’s giant fucking desk. “You don’t even… _fuck_ , James…know how much you owe me.”

He’d been looking forward to this session all week. Qrow Branwen was a difficult guy to score face time with. It had taken a concentrated force of teasing, cajoling, and compliments to get him to agree to spar. This was what happened, when they brought sex into the office. Clover got stupid.

His arm strained as he reached for his belt, all his weight on his left elbow, now. James kept going, with long languid thrusts that drove him to distraction. “I want… _gods,_ that’s…I want a…a _nice_ dinner, after this. And…and croissants for breakfast every– _fuck!_ Every day this week. And…a little help, here?”

James leaned forward, retrieving the scroll from his belt. Clover gasped. He didn’t think it was possible for James to be any further inside of him, but there you go. “You’re welcome,” he murmured in Clover’s ear, as he handed the scroll over.

As he typed out a message to Qrow, with great difficulty, James reached down and idly stroked his cock, teasing him.

_Sorry, gotta cancel our session. Something came up with General Ironwoosgsadsgf_

It was hard enough to type with his right hand, and then James did _that._ The bastard knew him too well.

“ _James_ ,” he panted. His cock twitched at the attention. The traitor. He carefully deleted the last word and tried again.

“Now that we have some time,” James said, innocently. The little rumble of amusement in his deep voice went straight to Clover’s dick. The second attempt didn’t go much better. He accidently hit send on ‘ _General Ironwoof.’_

“Every day,” he panted. “Croissants.”

“Chocolate,” James agreed, gripping his hip and starting up in earnest. Along with Clover, who was rock hard and leaking. He gave a low moan, as James stroked him.

His scroll chirped.

_???_

_cute name_

_everything ok?_

Clover went to type a reply, trying to think of something better than, ‘ _Can’t talk, getting railed by boss,’_ when James plucked the scroll from his hands, setting it out of reach.

“What have I told you about multitasking?” he chided.

His cousin Cedar always said that when you multitask, you half-ass two things. James used nicer language in his aphorisms. But Clover would counter them both that the split was more horizontal than vertical. His whole ass was definitely fully engaged in one thing.

“A _nice_ dinner. And then I want…I want…James, oh fuck that’s…ahh!”

“How about this,” James whispered in his ear. He removed his hand, and Clover made a frustrated whine. “What if instead we got takeout, went back to my place, and then I spend the rest of the night giving you _exactly_ what you want.”

Well. Might as well give James the thing _he_ wanted, then.

“Yes, sir,” he replied, breathy.

James growled, gripping his hips with both hands and setting a punishing pace. Every stroke brushed across his prostate, making Clover see stars. He held in his cries with one hand, lest the _entire tower_ hear what was happening.

And just like that Clover came, barely muffling the sound with his fist. His come spilled onto the desk, soiling it along with his stomach. A few more devastating thrusts and James was right behind him, grunting as he gave in to his orgasm. He panted as he kissed the back of Clover’s neck, again, buried to the hilt.

Well. He’d gotten James to stop working, at least.

After a brief reprieve James pulled out, and Clover couldn’t help the little whimper as he did so. He could feel James’s warm seed trickle out of him. He shivered as James rubbed the small of his back, comforting.

“You did so good,” James said, as he used his handkerchief to clean them off. Mostly Clover. James had barely undressed, the bastard.

Clover straightened, legs shaky, and tried to put himself back together. Gods, he was…he was a mess. The handkerchief could only do so much, and his clothes felt rough against his sensitive skin as he tugged them on. James wiped his come from the desk. They were really gonna need to air this place out.

James came over, pulling him in for a tender kiss. After the intensity of before, it took Clover’s breath away. His heart fluttered as he looked into deep blue eyes, leaning on James for support.

The other man cupped his cheek, fond. “Thank you for indulging me, Clover. I know it’s not your favorite thing, mixing work and pleasure.”

James was the only person Clover had ever been with who said _thank you_ after sex. It didn’t even sound awkward, anymore. Actually, it kind of melted his heart into a pile of goo. A wry smile tugged at his lips. “Well, since you insist on working all the time, it’s about the only way I can catch your attention.”

He fastened his belt, looking down and checking himself over. “Do I…how do I look?”

“You’re gorgeous.”

Clover flushed. That probably meant he looked fucked out. “Not what I was…” he coughed. “Uh. Twenty minutes? You go, I’ll follow?”

“Okay,” James said, a smug smile on his face. “I can order something, if you want? Pizza?”

“Deal,” Clover said. “Pineapple, jalapeno and bacon.”

James’s smile faltered, a bit. Clover pointed at the desk meaningfully. James put his hands up in surrender.

“Of course,” James said. “Whatever you want.”

“Good,” Clover said. If he was going to risk his entire professional reputation over hanky panky in the office, he was damn well was going to get the pizza toppings he wanted. He gave James another quick kiss, before turning to go.

He opened the door wide enough to peek out. It was late, but not that late. And Atlas kept all kinds of hours. Thankfully, the coast was clear. He slipped out, hastened across the rotunda, then ducked into a side hall.

James’s office was impressive, but he wasn’t so full of himself that he had his own private bathroom. The closest one was single occupancy, which was the next best thing, and it was Clover’s favorite one to use whenever James convinced him to fool around in the office. He cleaned himself up as best as he could _,_ but it was something of a lost cause. He was sweaty and flushed, his lips kiss-bruised, and his hair was a mess. Clover rubbed his pin and made a wish that he wouldn’t run into anyone. He _really_ didn’t want his team to know. They might never trust him again, if this came out.

When he was as put together as he could possibly be, he checked his scroll. Ten more minutes, to hide in here like someone’s mistress. It wasn’t a pretty routine, that they had.

It was worth it, though.

* * *

The next day had Clover waltzing through the hallways, chipper as can be. He was practically whistling, when he ran into Qrow on his way to the morning briefing.

“Good morning, Qrow!” he said, giving the man a little salute.

Qrow was the best. They’d been hanging out a lot, and it was truly a delight. Clover had never met anyone with an even remotely similar semblance, before. There was an inherent sadness about Qrow that he related to deeply. His own semblance had its share of frustrations. He never knew who he could trust, or who was just using him for his luck. And any time he did well, or something good happened, everyone assumed it was his semblance and not skill. He could only imagine what it was like for Qrow, on the opposite side of the coin.

And yet, the man had a relentless spirit. Besides being just about the most skilled Hunstman Clover had ever seen, he was warm and generous with his family. He was truly an admirable person. 

Right now, he was studying Clover with a curious expression.

“You okay, Lucky Charm?”

Clover actually wasn’t quite; it had been a while since he’d had to direct so much aura _there_ , and he was feeling a little sore. But then, it had also been a while since he’d been able to spend a full night with James, and then some. The physical markers were a comfort as much as they were a hindrance. They were a reminder of James’s love, from a man who was so much more comfortable with actions than words.

“Yeah, I’m– “

He smacked his forehead. “I forgot to text you back, last night. Sorry. I, uh, I got back late and I just passed out.”

Qrow chuckled, waving him off. “Don’t worry about it. Must’ve been a long day. I tried knocking on your door and you didn’t even hear.”

Clover gave a little fake laugh. It wasn’t especially convincing. “Yeah, I was pretty tired.”

“So, what did Jimmy keep you up so late for?”

“Uh.” Shit. He should’ve come up with a cover story. He was getting sloppy. It’s just that James was so distracting, when they were together. It was hard to focus on anything else. Which is why he _had_ , in fact, been up pretty late. His brain skittered off into a corner, remembering.

“Cloves?”

“What? Oh, uh…just plans for Amity. We went over the plans.”

They’d gone over them a couple times, all told. And again in the morning. He had the limp to prove it. A dazed smile crept onto his face. Gods, how many time did he come last night?

Qrow was looking at him funny. “You okay, Cloves? You seem out of it.”

He nodded, faintly, distracted by the thought of James crowding him up against the door on his way out that morning. “Mmm-hmm.”

They stepped into the elevator. Clover pushed the button for the main floor, where the briefing room was. He’d only _just_ finished the day’s assignments that morning, and he’d been draped in James’s lap while he did it. Hopefully they weren’t too wonky. He pulled out his scroll, checking.

“Your aura’s a little low, is all.”

He froze. “What?”

“You’re not quite up to full.”

He looked down, flipping to the aura monitor. 93%. Huh.

“Do you always check people’s aura levels first thing in the morning?” he asked, playing it off.

“Only when they blow me off and then act weird about it then next day,” Qrow shot back.

Fair enough.

“Sorry,” he said. “Thank you for the concern. I just didn’t get the best night’s sleep, is all. And this morning I…” he searched for an explanation. “I tripped.”

Qrow gave him a flat look. “ _You_ tripped. Mr. Lucky.”

He nodded. What were the odds Qrow would buy that?

Qrow smirked. “Did you fall on your ass?”

Low. They were low.

Clover opened his mouth to make a plea for discretion, but two things happened at the exact same time. One, the elevator doors opened and James was standing _right there._ Two, Qrow rolled his eyes at him and said. “Cloves, you can just _tell me_ you got laid last night. It’s no big deal.”

Clover felt his soul leave his body. He looked from James, in the door, to Qrow, and then back to James. His face flushed red, out of his control.

James looked like the cat that got the cream.

“Sir,” he said.

Qrow looked over. “Jimmy,” he said, by way of greeting.

“Qrow, Clover,” James said, stepping into the elevator. Clover had to scoot back a bit to keep from getting crowded by him. James turned to Clover. “If I could see you in my office for a moment, after the briefing?”

“Of course, sir.”

There had better be a croissant and a cup of _good_ coffee in that office or Clover was never touching him again.

The elevator doors opened as they reached their floor, and the three of them stepped out. James branched off to one side, where his office was, while Clover and Qrow continued down the hall. James gave him a parting look, eyes drifting down in appraisal for a moment.

“I’ll…see you in a little while, Clover.”

“Yes, sir,” he choked out, before hurrying down the hall.

Qrow had to jog a bit to catch up. As he pulled near he opened his mouth to speak. Clover spun around, cutting him off with a finger to his chest.

“Don’t. Say. Anything.”

Qrow put his hands up in defense. “Don’t freak out, all right? You want me to keep your little secret, or to not give you shit about it?”

Clover gave him a pleading look. “Both?”

The other man snorted. “Second one’s gonna be a problem. The first one is doable.” He crossed his hands behind his head, casually. “I could be convinced.”

Clover scowled. “I’m not about to blow you or anything, if that’s what you’re thinking. I’m not that desperate to keep a secret.”

That was a lie. He was and he would, if he had to. _No one_ else could know about this. And Qrow was…not bad looking. Actually, he was pretty hot. Not as hot as James, of course, but that wasn’t really an apples-to-apples comparison. They were completely different. It’s just that _James_ would definitely have a problem with it if Qrow wanted anything like that, and then Clover would have to lie to him and it would be awful. No use making a bigger problem for himself clamping down on one secret by starting a bigger one.

“ _Brothers_ , Cloves, I’m not gonna– “

“Good morning, Uncle Qrow!”

They’d reached the briefing room. Ruby waved excitedly. Clover was a morning person and even he was impressed by her energy. She and Penny were the only ones who seemed half-awake. And Penny was probably programmed that way.

“Yeah, yeah, good morning, kiddo,” Qrow said, a smile tugging at his lips despite his tone. Clover took the opportunity to exit that conversation while he still could, moving to the front of the room.

“All right, Hunstmen, look alive!” he called, as much to himself as to anyone else. “It’s a big day, today, just like every other day.”

Everyone settled into their chairs, waiting for his orders. Teams RWBY and JNR took the front row, eager as always, with Marrow slotting in beside Jaune with an extra cup of coffee. It made his heart warm, seeing his team embrace the next generation. Elm and Vine sat behind them, along with Penny, ready to get out there. Harriet hung to the back, arms crossed, a small smirk on her face. No doubt she was setting herself up against whatever challenge faced the day. Qrow slunk into the back row, giving him an uncharacteristically cautious look.

Well. Something to deal with later.

“All right,” he said, pulling out his scroll. “We’ve got both light and heavy loads going up to Amity today. Plus plenty of work in Mantle. Let’s start with the easy stuff. Jaune, you’re on crossing guard duty again. They…really like you, down there. If you bring back dinner for everyone, no complaints here.”

The blond rubbed the back of his head, embarrassed. He needn’t be. Keeping morale up in Mantle was an essential part of fending off the Grimm. Especially with the wall in the state it was. Speaking of…

“Ren, Nora, Elm and Vine, I’ve got you on wall patrol. We’ve heard about increased activity on the southeast border. If you find a hot spot, don’t hesitate to take it out. Elm, you’re on point.”

Elm gave him a little salute. “Got it.”

“That brings us to the main event, Amity. We have two, count ‘em, _two_ airships headed out there today with extremely sensitive equipment. I want Blake, Yang, Marrow and Harriet on the first. That’ll be the hairy one, with the less sensitive supplies. Clear out the site as much as you can. Ruby, Weiss and Penny will be on the second. You’ll have the extra sensitive cargo, hence the extra security. Two people from the alpha team need to hang back until bravo comes in, any volunteers?”

Yang and Blake shot their hands into the air, immediately.

“Great,” Clover said. Noticing Harriet’s offended look, from the back of the room, he added with a wink, “That’ll save us on fuel costs, you two are lighter than Hare and Marrow.”

Harriet rolled her eyes. Marrow looked offended, despite the fact that he was a full head taller than anyone on team RWBY.

“Speaking of, the two of you will come back with the ground team, unglamorous as it is.” Clover said, “That’ll be Qrow, taking the heavy load, along with…me.”

Fuck. He’d made the assignment out of habit. It’s just that he _liked_ spending time with Qrow. It was just…it was long drive, out to Amity. Lots of time to ask questions.

No matter, now. It was done. “All right, Hunstmen?” he called. “Let’s move.”

Everyone sprung into action, eager to greet the day. It was really something, seeing all that enthusiasm.

Except that Qrow made a beeline for him. Clover panicked, stepping back. “Meet you at the truck?” he said, reeling back. After all, James did want to meet with him. Which was not helping his case.

“I…sure,” Qrow said, letting him go, Thank the gods.

It was a conversation for later, Clover thought. _After_ he’d had his much-promised croissant.

* * *

Sure enough, James handed him a white paper bag and a steaming cup of coffee when he entered. Gods, he was starving. Clover leaned against the desk as he ate, quicker than he would have liked.

“All that to-do and I thought you would have savored it more,” James remarked, as he sat back in his chair watching. His steepled fingers hid a small smile.

“I only have about fifteen minutes before I need to get to the hangar bay,” Clover said, blowing on his coffee. “Not all of us have a full night to take our pleasures.”

“Oh? Fifteen minutes?” James said, innocently.

“Don’t start,” he warned. The desk wasn’t any more comfortable to lean against than it was to be bent over. “You need a couch in here, by the way. You have more than enough space.”

James raised an eyebrow. “Now what would I use that for?”

Well, that was one idea. The existing options were limited. James was a little too enamored with the intimidation factor of his giant office. So there was the desk, and James’s chair, and the floor. One time James tried pushing him up against the bookshelves and it was ridiculously hot for a second before all the books tumbled down, making an awful mess. If there was one thing Clover hated, it was disrespect for a good book.

“You want me to hang out here more, give me a place to sit.” Clover said. The coffee was still pretty hot, but he managed to take a couple sips. “And no, your lap doesn’t count.”

Not that he was planning on making this much of a habit. He was too stupid when he was around James like that. Not about the _job,_ thank the Brothers, but about his own discretion. Case in point, Qrow. He and James needed to have a conversation about that, but it would be a whole big thing and he really did need to get to the hangar. 

“I’ll consider it,” James said. “Pity, though. I was just thinking about how good you looked last night, with my cock inside of you.”

Clover burned his tongue and half his throat on coffee. He coughed into his elbow, sending James a desperate look. “Oh?”

James leaned forward, resting his elbows against the desk as he looked up at Clover. Deep blue eyes caught his, pulling him in. “Hmm. And how perfectly tight you were, in my hands, bent over like that for me. Begging me to take you.”

Clover pushed away from the desk before James could say anything else that might get him any more riled up. “I, uh…I really should get to the hangar.”

James sat back, smug. He looked at the coffee and half-eaten croissant on the desk. “Aren’t you going to finish?”

Clover could _finish_ just from the sound of James’s voice, and they both knew it.

“No, I’m…uh. Full.” He flushed red, backing out. “I’ll check in when we get back.”

“I look forward to your report,” James said. How did he make that sound so filthy?

“Right,” Clover said.

And with that, he turned on his heel and rushed out the door. It was about a five minute walk to the hangar, which gave him about five minutes to scrub his mind of images of James. As if he could.

* * *

Qrow let him get about ten minutes and a whole hand of poker into the drive before he started pestering him.

“Why do you let Jimmy treat you like that?” Qrow asked.

Clover frowned. “Like what?”

Was Qrow about to say something horribly offensive? He didn’t seem like the type. Actually, he was precisely _not_ the type, and that’s why Clover liked him. One of the reasons, at least. He was also sweet and kind with his nieces, all the kids really. He was an incredibly skilled Huntsman. Who else could make a _scythe_ work like that, honestly?

“Like some dirty little secret,” Qrow clarified.

“It _is_ a secret,” Clover said. “One that I…I hope I can trust you to keep.”

His heart sped up as their eyes met. He gave Qrow his most plaintive look, searching his crimson eyes for understanding.

Qrow broke contact first. “All right, already, quit it with the puppy dog eyes. I get that enough from Ruby, I don’t need it from you.”

“It’s just _really important_ , Qrow. No one can know–I can’t have that kind of scrutiny on me.”

The Captain of the Ace Ops, from a military family, with a lucky semblance, _and_ screwing his boss? All the respect he’d built over the years would crumble in an instant. Everything he’d worked toward. Gods only knew what his father would say. Of all people, surely _Qrow_ would understand.

Qrow stuck a hand out. There was a glimmer of recognition in his eyes. “You have my word.”

Clover took it, but pulled Qrow into a hug. The other man made a noise of surprise, but went along with it. “ _Thank_ you, Qrow. This means a lot to me, it really does.”

In a way, it was something of a relief that Qrow knew. If they were going to be partners they couldn’t have secrets. And it was exhausting, lying to everyone like that. It was hard enough hiding it from the Ace Ops. It would be nice to have someone he could be honest with, for once.

“All right, already,” Qrow said, pulling back. “Don’t get all sappy on me.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” Clover replied, a smile tugging at his lips. He dealt the cards, the familiar motion calming his nerves.

Qrow leaned back, watching him. “Just watch it, okay? You two are not as subtle as you think.”

Clover rolled his eyes. “Trust me, I know. He’s not usually like this. We’re normally very careful about keeping the job separate from…us. Not that it’s not _nice_ , to get the time together, but it’s risky. I honestly don’t know what’s gotten into him this week.”

It had been all week, hadn’t it? Maybe the stress was getting to James, since Amity had ramped up. It seemed like ever since that mission at the launch site he couldn’t keep his hands off of Clover. It was just strange. Usually when the job got too busy Clover would get pushed aside like a stray cat.

“I’ve known James a long time,” Qrow said, fanning out his cards. “And I don’t think I’ve ever seen him focus on anything _but_ the job.”

Clover snorted. “Tell me about it. You don’t know how much work I had to do just to get him to date me in the first place.”

It felt good to talk about this. He didn’t really _have_ anyone he could talk to about James. Not even family. His cousin Cedar had made his thoughts on the matter _very_ clear. It was best to just avoid the topic unless he wanted a two-hour lecture. Not that Clover could even reliably get that, since the borders had closed.

“Oh yeah?” Qrow said. “Bet that was rough for you, finding someone who didn’t immediately give in to your charm.”

“I don’t know,” Clover said, winking. “It could get plenty rough when he _did_ give in to my charm,”

Qrow fumbled his cards. It was too much fun, getting him all flustered.

They played in comfortable silence for a while. It was no surprise when Clover laid out a winning hand. Qrow grumbled, shoving his cards over for Clover to shuffle. As he dealt the next hand, Qrow looked down.

“Hey, uh…don’t let Jimmy walk all over you, okay?”

Clover looked up, surprised. Qrow was studying the floor with great interest.

“Qrow,” he said, smiling. “Are you possibly defending my honor?”

The other man rubbed the back of his head, a blush creeping up his neck. “Don’t let it go to your head. Not that it could get any bigger.”

“You don’t have to worry about me,” he said. A warmth crept into his heart, one that he hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Look, just…” Qrow said, finally looking up. “You’re not some side piece. You’re the one with more at stake. If you don’t want to fool around in the office, just tell him to fuck off.”

Qrow was…he was really something.

“I…thanks, Qrow,” he said. He let out a huff of laughter. “Can you even imagine his face, if I did?”

Qrow snorted. “If you do, please invite me. It’s about time someone told him to shove it.”

“Maybe I will,” Clover said, grinning. “Don’t you think that office is ridiculous? It’s half the size of my apartment, and there’s only one gods-damned chair.”

“Well, a second chair would ruin the effect,” Qrow said, shaking his head. “Why sit when you can kneel?”

Clover laughed, full-throated. For all his prickly nature, Qrow had a lot of warmth. Maybe he _was_ someone Clover could trust. He felt free, sitting there talking to Qrow. Even the Ace Ops would never speak about General Ironwood in such a way. But Qrow didn’t care about rank, or tradition. He was just Qrow. And he was a lot of fun to be around.

Life was so interesting, these days. Clover was truly lucky.


	2. There's Something About Clover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James does some redecorating. Qrow gets a job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyoooo, here's more dumb boys! What a balm to my nerves their casual idiocy is. 
> 
> Quick update on Neverending Summer: Chapter 6 is drafted! Finally! What a bear that one has been. So hopefully that will be forthcoming sometime this week. It's...angsty.

Qrow supposed it was only a matter of time before he got called into Jimmy’s office.

It was hard to know _what_ to think of James, anymore. From the warm military welcome in Mantle when they’d arrived, he expected the man to be…at the worse end of his spectrum. And in a sense, he was. Mantle was on a near-lockdown. The secrecy around Amity was threatening to rip the kingdom apart, all in the name of uniting it. But personally, James was warmer than he’d ever been. He trusted them immediately, something Qrow felt a bit guilty over, bringing him and the kids into his inner circle without a second thought. He was willing to hear them out, in a way that he didn’t recall James doing back at Beacon. So it was still _James_ –the paranoid, arrogant control freak. But there was an emotionally raw component to it, like James had doubled down on protecting everything he held dear.

Which, apparently, included Clover Ebi.

It’s not like Qrow could blame him. Clover had the body of a marble statue and the personality of a golden retriever. But he wasn’t stuck up, or full of himself. He was a total breath of fresh air. _Not_ that he would ever tell Clover that. The guy didn’t need any more ammunition in teasing Qrow. It’s just that it irked him, a bit, seeing Clover jockey for James’s attention only to get treated like the best thing he had to offer was his (admittedly perfect) ass.

Which, in typical James fashion, was apparently the exclusive property of one General James Ironwood. Clover was smart in the field, but he didn’t know James like Qrow did. Jimmy was marking his territory. He could have peed on Clover’s leg in the briefing room and Clover would just fret over poor James and his stress-related incontinence.

So he expected the call from James. Qrow was being summoned to that dumbass office to be told in no uncertain terms that Clover was off limits, and that Qrow would be keeping his distance and also his mouth shut if he knew what was good for him. All things he was already planning on doing.

He couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed. Despite himself, he…kind of liked hanging out with Clover. It was a shame to have to put a pin in it so soon after they’d met. Ugh, he should have known better than to hope.

Qrow sighed, as he approached James’s door. It was better to get this over with. He steeled himself for _Full James_ as he entered the office.

What he did not expect was the absolutely enormous leather sofa that now occupied a corner of the room.

“Uh,” he said, standing in the doorway. “That’s…new.”

James had his arms crossed, standing in the middle of the room as he studied his latest acquisition. “Qrow, good, you’re here,” he said. “What do you think of it?”

Qrow scratched his head, stepping into the room. “It’s…nice?”

“Do you think it needs something else? A table? A…second couch?”

Qrow had grown up in a tent, collecting water from streams and boiling it before they could drink. Which was actually one of the milder jobs for children.

“Jimmy, you’re asking the wrong guy,” he said, rolling his eyes.

It was a little weird looking, to be honest. It was a lovely piece, but it was all alone. It only called attention to the fact that there was no other furniture, besides the desk.

“But do you think,” James paused. He looked a little constipated. So nothing unusual, then. “Do you think Clover will like it?”

Oh, was _that_ what this was about?

Qrow sat down, experimentally. The leather was warm and luxurious, and the seat was well-cushioned. It was a substantial size, not so delicate so that a tall guy like Clover would feel uncomfortable stretching out. It did kind of go with the desk. Qrow was rather partial to the couch himself, if he were being honest.

“I mean, you know him better than me.” Qrow said, deferring. “Or his team would know what he likes.”

“I can’t ask his team,” James said, stilted. “I’m asking you.”

“Jim, you could put a futon in here and he’d treat it like it was made of clouds,” Qrow snapped, annoyed. “Did you just ask me here to rate your furniture?”

James coughed. “No. Well. I have a task for you.”

The other man stood in front of Qrow, hands clasped behind his back, every bit the General about to give orders. Huh. Maybe this was actually important. Qrow sat forward, listening.

“Yeah?” he said.

“It’s…personal.”

Maybe not.

“…yeah?” he repeated, his forgotten dread from earlier creeping back in.

“I’d…like you to look after Clover.”

He wasn’t expecting _that_ , either.

“You want me to what?”

They’d been working together for over a week, now. He’d seen Clover in action against dozens of Grimm. There was no way Clover needed _looking after._ Not that Qrow had been paying attention.

James took a deep breath. “Clover has certain…needs. Understandably. It’s not that I’m unaware that I’m not fulfilling them. It’s just that the job is very important, right now. And I know my own limits. I was hoping you could perhaps…fill in the gap, so to speak.”

Qrow’s brain short-circuited. Was James asking him to _sleep_ _with_ Clover?

“You’re…okay with that? _Clover_ is okay with that?”

He couldn’t believe he was even entertaining the idea. He didn’t realize Clover was so insatiable. It seemed like Jimmy was doing a pretty good job, from the dopey looks Clover had on his face all the time.

“He doesn’t know I’m asking you,” James said. “And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell him.”

“Look, you really do know him better than me,” Qrow repeated, frowning. “But Clover doesn’t seem like the type to cheat, from what I’ve seen.”

“It’s not cheating,” James insisted. “You’d just be doing what you’re already doing.”

Qrow balked. “James, it’s not like that. We’re just…friends, I guess."

Were they friends? Clover had all but declared them friends as soon as they met. Well, as soon as they got out of those handcuffs. Was this how people did it? It felt like he hadn’t made a _friend_ since he was back at Beacon. He was sorely out of practice.

Anyway, the important thing was that they hung out but they weren’t fucking.

James blinked.

“Of course, you’re just…what did you think I…” he made a disgusted face, his eyebrow twitching. “ _Qrow._ I’d like you to check in on Clover’s _emotional_ needs. And…perhaps, report back to me.”

Oh.

In Qrow’s defense, James’s request was weirder.

“You want me to spy on him.”

James shifted a little, uncomfortable. “Of course not. I’d never ask you to conceal your presence. Though if you did happen to notice anything alarming while in your bird form, that knowledge would be much appreciated.”

James paced, in front of the couch. It was like he was in the briefing room.

“Primarily, however, I’d like you to simply spend time with him. The nature of our relationship prevents me from being…openly attentive, shall we say. I worry about Clover getting lonely. You two are already working well together. All I ask is that you keep me informed of any situations that I might need to address.”

In other words, keep Clover happy so Jimmy could keep fucking him under the table. The guy certainly had balls, Qrow could give him that.

“James,” he said, a hand to his forehead. This was giving him a headache. “You’re the one that he wants. I think he can tell the difference between me and you. And I am not going to _report back to you_ like one of your operatives. This is ridiculous.”

He moved to stand. But before he could, James knelt in front of the couch. He placed a hand on Qrow’s shoulder.

“Wait!” he said, a painfully earnest look on his face. “Please, Qrow. You’re the only one I can trust with this. I’m asking for your help, _as my friend_. Clover is…he’s very important to me. I can’t lose him.”

Gods, the sight of him was so pathetic. Qrow was no good at relationships either, but sometimes it was like James was an alien from another planet.

Spend time with Clover, huh? The idea had some appeal to it. Not because Qrow was…well. It was just nice to hang out with an actual adult for once, is all. Especially one who understood his semblance. Who he didn’t have to worry about bringing down in the field. Someone who got his sense of humor, and who gave as good as he got, and who made Qrow feel like maybe he wasn’t this useless curse on everyone around him, and who–

Qrow was just as pathetic as James.

He groaned. Maybe if he helped out James, it would get this little crush out of his system.

“Jimmy, you are the gods-damned biggest idiot I have ever met.”

Blue eyes pleaded with him. “But you’ll help?”

Qrow rolled his eyes. “I’m not spying, and I’m not telling you anything he says to me in confidence.”

James sighed in relief. “You’re a lifesaver, Qrow. If there’s anything you need, ever, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

Spend time with Clover. Help James. Get a little favor, for the future. Sure, this would go great.

Before he could really dig in to his instant regret, the door slid open and the man himself burst in, a panicked look in his eye.

James blinked, standing. “Clover!” he said, alarmed. “Qrow and I were just talking about–what’s wrong?”

“I need to hide in here.”

“From what?” Qrow asked. Clover looked down at him, startled, as if just now noticing his presence. He stared for a moment. Instead of answering, though, he turned to James with a blinding smile.

“You got a couch! It’s really nice. You know, this could be a whole sitting area if you got a side table, maybe an armchair. An area rug would also–”

“Hello to you, too,” Qrow grumbled. Good to know he ranked lower than furniture. Clearly Jimmy had overestimated him.

Clover put a hand to his temple. “Shit, sorry Qrow. It’s good to…I’ve just been…it’s just that I…” he winced. “The Colonel is on base.”

James reacted immediately, a dark look crossing his face. What that some kind of code? Something about Salem?

“He’s retired,” James said.

“You think that would stop him for long?” Clover replied. “What else is he gonna do, take up crochet?”

Ah. Not a code. An actual Colonel.

Clover moaned miserably, flopping down on the couch next to Qrow. He flung an arm over his face, dramatically. “I had things that I wanted to do today, James. I had plans. _Outside_ plans.”

“You haven’t seen him yet, then? He didn’t call you?”

Clover shook his head. “Why would he call when he could have me summoned? No, Elm just texted to warn me. She said he’s inspecting the weapon stores. _Unofficially_ , of course. Just a courtesy, from the resident expert. Probably making sure that the sticks are all to regulation ass-length.”

“Is there…something I’m missing, here?” Qrow asked. Clover was Captain of the Ace Ops. Why would some random bureaucrat be his problem?

James turned to him and grimaced. “Colonel Ebi has very particular standards.”

Qrow blinked. “Ebi.”

Clover gave another dramatic sigh. “My father. He’s not… _bad_ or anything, per se, he’s just kind of…he can be…”

“He’s an asshole.” James cut in. He left no room for debate.

Huh.

Qrow didn’t know what he expected. It’s not like he thought Clover had burst forth fully formed out of whirl of sunshine and rainbows. Of course, Clover had a family. It’s just that if Clover’s behavior was anything to go by, it didn’t seem like they had the best relationship. Qrow’s own experiences with family were so fraught that he often forgot there was a middle ground between his own dumpster fire of a childhood and the unconditional love of someone like Taiyang. Clover seemed like a well-functioning adult. He’d assumed the man’s childhood was easy.

James came over, sitting next to Clover on the couch and rubbing his shoulders supportively. Clover sighed, contented this time, leaning forward so James could give him a proper massage. James nudged him so he was facing Qrow, giving James the full glorious canvas of his ridiculously muscled back to work with.

“It’s not fair,” Clover moaned, as James massaged his shoulders. “It’s not the third Tuesday of the month. This is not the proper protocol.”

“You usually have inspections, then?” Qrow asked. Not like he knew. The Atlas military was completely opaque to him. He didn’t much care to remedy that, except he was desperate to focus on anything besides Clover getting worked over in front of him.

“No, we have lunch.” Clover replied.

“Ah.”

James must had hit a particularly tough knot, because Clover all but melted in his hands. “Mmm, right there, James.”

“You’re so tense,” James murmured, really putting his back into it.

Oh, no. This was too intimate. Qrow had to leave. He moved to stand, serious this time.

“I can go head him off,” James offered, before he could make his goodbyes. “Why don’t you stay here with Qrow?”

Clover glanced up at Qrow, his teal eyes clearly troubled. James sent him a pleading look, over Clover’s shoulder.

So much for that.

“I…sure, yeah. I’ll hang out.”

Qrow was a weak, weak man.

He leaned back and got comfortable. The couch was actually pretty nice. Maybe he’d come hang out with Jimmy more often. He bet he could convince the man to let Qrow take naps here. Especially if he was going to be doing…favors.

Clover bit his lip, unsure. “You’re both probably busy. Sorry, I just barged in here. I can…I just need a breather before I have to… _fuck_ , that’s…”

He trailed off as James dug into him, using the strength of his metal arm to turn Clover into goo. A little groan escaped his lips, barely audible, as his eyes fluttered shut.

Qrow felt like he was watching a very particular sort of pornography. It was a frankly inspiring display, which unfortunately had his full undivided attention despite the fact that it was an _obvious power play_ by James. The man was good. He had half a mind to take notes.

“Nonsense,” James murmured. “I’ll tell him you’re indisposed. He can’t argue with rank.”

“Hmm,” Clover said, frowning. “He’s not gonna like that. He already doesn’t like you.”

Interesting.

“Then there’s no loss in me doing it,” James replied, sensibly. It was strange; this was a side of James he rarely saw. So soft, so gentle.

Maybe he did care about Clover, after all.

“Hmm, I…” Clover said, as James pressed his thumbs into Clover’s spine. “I guess you could…I mean, it’ll work at least _once_ , I suppose.”

James leaned in, kissing Clover between his shoulder blades. Clover blushed at the PDA, waving him off and giving Qrow an apologetic look. Oh, so _now_ he got embarrassed. When Jimmy was rubbing him all over, that was completely innocent. “James…” he cautioned.

“What?” James said innocently, smoothing Clover’s collar back into place as he stood. “I’ll take care of this. Wait here as long as you like.”

“Thanks,” Clover said, smiling faintly. He leaned back on the couch. “Now that I’ve got a nice place to sit, it’s not so bad.”

James chuckled, giving Qrow a little nod in thanks as he left.

When the doors had shut, Clover turned on him, fixing Qrow with a look.

“All right, lay it on me,” he said.

Qrow blinked. “What?”

Clover rolled his eyes. “Come on, Qrow. Don’t pretend like you don’t have a million things you want to say right now. Just go ahead and get it out of your system.”

Everything had been topsy-turvy since he’d set foot in this office, but there was nothing particularly nasty he had up his sleeve for Clover. He was at a loss.

“I…honestly don’t have anything to say.”

“Let me get you started,” Clover said. He pitched his voice low and raspy. “’ _Daddy issues, huh Cloves? Dating an older man, eh? Who’s he closer to, your age or your old man’s?'_ Which is mine, for the record,” he muttered. “…barely, but still.”

“That’s not what I sound like,” he said. Which was the most intelligent thing he had to say.

“I’m not good at impressions!” Clover said. He was getting kind of worked up again, despite James’s massage. “Look…whatever you’re gonna say, just say it now.”

“Clover,” he said. “I grew up in a tribe of bandits. I’m not about to give you shit for your family.”

Clover blinked. “Bandits?”

“Branwen Tribe, in Mistral?”

Clover shrugged. “Word hasn’t made it up here, I guess. Were they…?”

“It was bad,” Qrow said. “I’m not proud of the things I did there. And…it wasn’t the most supportive environment. So I get it. Family sucks sometimes.”

“Oh,” Clover said, eyes wide. “I’m so sorry, Qrow, that sounds really rough. Worse than a little criticism, at least.”

Qrow shrugged.

“It’s hard to picture, I guess,” Clover said, studying him. At Qrow’s raised eyebrows, he elaborated. “You as a bandit. It’s just that you’re so…I can’t imagine you hurting anyone.”

Qrow didn’t need to _try_ to hurt people. He just did.

Clover sighed, at his silence. “All right, well, looks like we’ve got some time on our hands. What do you wanna do?”

Qrow shrugged. “What do you and Jimmy usually…”

He trailed off. A telltale flush crept up Clover’s neck.

“This is the last time I’m gonna sit on this couch, isn’t it?” Qrow said.

“That might be for the best.”

Qrow gave the buttery leather a forlorn caress. Goodbye, luxury.

“All right,” he said, kicking his shoes off. “Scooch over. I’m taking a nap.”

Clover squawked in protest as Qrow swung his legs into Clover’s lap. “A _nap?_ What are you–what am I supposed to do while you– “

“Whatever you want, Lucky Charm. Just don’t wake me up.”

This probably wasn’t what Jimmy meant when he asked Qrow to keep an eye on Clover. But in Qrow’s short experience, Clover had no problem talking to him when he was completely unresponsive. This would do fine. If Jimmy thought otherwise, he could buy Qrow his own couch.

Or maybe Qrow could keep this one, and he could buy one for Clover that was easier to clean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *deep sigh* 
> 
> Jimmy, this is not how normal people do it.


	3. Technical Difficulties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clover gets into photography. James consults an expert. Qrow takes a call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’re trying something new: shifting perspectives within a chapter! And dipping our toes into writing James’s POV! Which is why this bog boi is…roughly three times the size of the last chapter. But it’s three times the dumb, I promise you that.

“I just want to make it clear that this is _not_ a briefing, and I have no obligation to tell you anything.”

“Of course,” James said, coming around the desk to greet his old friend. “Have a seat.”

Qrow hesitated. “I’ll stand, thanks.”

James shrugged. This would have to be quick, anyway. He had a meeting with Winter and Penny in ten minutes, then Clover after that. The little seating area was coming along nicely though, with Clover’s input. There was an armchair, a coffee table, and a lovely lamp that Clover had found for a steal at a flea market. More than once during the day he found himself migrating over there to read reports, or just to sit for a few minutes in rest.

Which was much needed. It had been an extraordinarily busy week, and there was no end in sight. James had been working from sunup till well past sundown. He couldn’t even remember when his last day off had been. But there was an invigorating hope to it all. With the additional help from Qrow and this new batch of Huntsmen and Huntresses, progress on Amity was sailing along.

“How’s everything going?” he asked.

Qrow shrugged. “Fine, for the most part. I think his dad’s been bugging him, though. He hasn’t said anything, but he’s been acting weird when he gets calls.”

James sighed. He truly despised that man. He’d never seen a human being _pick_ at another one the way Clover’s father did to him. And Clover just…just accepted it. He clearly craved the man’s approval, not that the Colonel deserved it.

Anyway, there was no love lost between them. Not since James had been promoted over Colonel Ebi, then recruited his son for his _personal project_ , as he'd called it.

“That’s good to know,” he said, mulling over a few options for how to fix this. “I’ll see what I can do to take his mind off of it. Anything else? How about you, Qrow? Settling in all right?”

Qrow shrugged again. “Sure.”

There was clearly something he wanted to say. He kept fidgeting. James cocked his head. “Qrow, what’s on your mind? I promise, you can trust me.”

Qrow gave a little laugh. “It’s stupid. I, uh…I should probably tell you. I quit drinking.”

_That_ was news. Qrow had had a…a _complicated_ relationship with alcohol the entire time they’d known each other. As concerned as he was for his friend, he hadn’t wanted to pry. And, well…he and Qrow didn’t always see eye to eye. He worried the advice would sound hollow, if it came from him.

“Qrow, that’s…that’s great news. I’m so happy for you.”

“It’s no big deal, you don’t have to– “

He pulled Qrow in for a hug, against the other man’s protests. Physical affection was important, he was learning that. It was something Clover had taught him. And it felt good, and it was…well, it was easier than words, for him. Qrow relaxed in his hold, patting his back with a chuckle.

He pulled back, looking Qrow in the eye. “Qrow, you know…if you ever need any help, you can come to me.”

Qrow rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t get all sappy on me, Jim.”

He smiled. “What are friends for?”

Look at them. Two grizzled old men who had found happiness, despite years of misery. James had noticed the change in Qrow’s posture, since coming to Atlas. He no longer curled in on himself, hunched and morose. Giving up the bottle must have had a real effect on him. And James had gone through his own transformation, since his relationship with Clover progressed beyond the professional. The fact that Clover accepted him, _all_ of him, made him giddy in a way he hadn’t felt in decades.

He clapped Qrow on the shoulder. “I’ll see you at the meeting later, all right?”

Qrow smirked. “Hmph, sure. And I will definitely be conscious during your boring-ass speeches.”

Clover said he _liked_ James’s speeches. And thus he would keep doing them, exactly as he had been, forever and always. He walked Qrow out, glad that they’d had this chance to catch up. It was nice, seeing Qrow again.

He pulled out his scroll, checking the time. Penny and Winter should be here any minute. The door slid open and Qrow stepped out, eyes on his own scroll, only to be nearly run over by team RWBY. He stumbled back into the office, knocking into James with a huff of surprise. 

“Sorry Uncle Qrow! Sorry General Ironwood!” Ruby called. She was already a blur, out the rotunda and halfway down the hall.

Qrow sighed, scooping up his scroll from where it had fallen to the floor alongside James’s. “What are you kids– “

“Nothing!” Yang called, as she ran past. She gave them a wave with her metal arm, and something in his heart warmed. “Everything’s fine!”

He chuckled, despite himself. It was nice, seeing _all_ of them again.

* * *

Clover always answered his scroll if he wasn’t on a mission, and even if he _was_ he’d take a quick call if they were in downtime, say stuck on a transport. You just never knew when someone would need you, was the thing. So it was unfortunate that he was just sitting with Elm and Vine in the mess hall, shooting the breeze after the briefing, when his father called. Again.

There was a specific tone he’d assigned his father’s calls, and he’d never realized how much he hated it until he heard it three days in a row, multiple times per day. His hand hesitated over the screen for a moment before he declined the call. Maybe he could say he’d been on a long mission. Very long.

“Who was that?” Elm asked, frowning.

He grimaced. “The Colonel.”

“Again?” she asked, exchanging a glance with Vine. “You just saw him on Friday.”

Clover shook his head. “Nah, I got out of it. Thank the gods.”

“I did see the General taking him through the East Hangar,” Vine said. “Curious, I always thought they hated each other.”

“Keep your enemies close, I suppose,” Clover said, deflecting. He pasted on a smile. “Lucky me though, I didn’t have to play tour guide. Thanks again for the heads-up, Elm.”

She snorted. “Looks like your disappearing act didn’t work so well, if he’s calling. Where’d you end up hiding, anyway?”

“Oh, uh…I was hanging out with Qrow.”

He felt a bit bad using Qrow as an alibi. But technically that was true, he _had_ been with Qrow. In James’s office. Watching Qrow sleep while he wrote reports on his scroll wasn’t really the day he’d envisioned, either, but it was better than the alternative. His father had a way of getting under his skin over even the most mundane topics. Plus, even an unconscious Qrow was good company. And he looked like he could use the rest.

Elm and Vine exchanged looks.

“So, you and Qrow, huh?” Elm said, with a smirk.

Clover blinked. “What? Qrow and I are just friends.”

Sure, he and Qrow had been spending a lot of time together. But that was to be expected, considering their role as combat partners. Though…he probably spent more time with Qrow than with any of the Ace Ops. More than James, actually. But James was really busy. And it was just so nice to be around someone who knew all his secrets.

“Come on, boss, it’s totally obvious,” Elm said, with a laugh. She looked like she had half a mind to grab him in a signature headlock, and he subtly shifted away. “Don’t think we didn’t notice when you came in with sex hair the other day.”

He blinked. “Sex hair?”

“The hair you have after sex,” Vine clarified. “It’s quite distinct.”

“I wasn’t aware that you were keeping track of my sex life,” Clover said. “Which is highly inappropriate, by the way.”

Elm snorted. “What’s _inappropriate_ is how long of a dry spell you had before Branwen came along.”

Clover sputtered. “Excuse me?”

“I counted nearly a year between instances of sex hair,” Vine said, giving him an assessing look. “Not since that engineer with the tattoos.”

“Ooh, he was hot,” Elm said. “Whatever happened to him?”

“None of your business,” he replied.

Umber had been perfectly nice, but the relationship had been mostly sexual. The end of it had been foretold by James _finally_ picking up what Clover was putting down, so he broke it off. At least Vine hadn’t noticed the…apparent _sex hair_ until recently. Which was still a concept he was struggling to wrap his mind around.

“And did it occur to either of you that I do occasionally date people who have nothing to do with the military?”

Not…lately, of course. For several years. It was a pathetic defense. But Clover knew people. Lots of people. He was a people person.

“Like Qrow?” Elm asked, waggling her eyebrows.

“Qrow is an official _liaison_ to the Atlas military,” he corrected.

“So you are dating,” Vine said, dry as a bone.

Clover’s mouth fell open. He stood up, gathering his coffee cup. He didn’t have to take this, from his team. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting.”

“ _A meeting_ , sure,” Elm winked. Vine had that serene, all-knowing expression. He was putting them both on grunt work next week, he decided. If they were going to act like gossipy housewives then they might as well do it on the ground in Mantle.

Dating Qrow. He couldn’t believe it. Did _everybody_ think that?

* * *

James didn’t really think the whole Qrow situation was as serious as Clover did. Which Clover could tell, by the way James reacted when he brought it up on his way out of their morning meeting. Mainly, by the way James took it as a personal challenge to make Clover come his brains out. It had gone from zero to sixty in record time, and Clover’s head was still spinning.

“ _Gods_ , James, that was…”

The new couch was _very nice_.

James wiped his mouth, sitting back on his heels with a self-satisfied smirk. Clover tucked himself back into his pants, noting the bulge in the other man’s trousers. He’d already had breakfast, but apparently James was hungry.

“Let me– “

His scroll chirped an alarm. “Oh, no. What time is it?”

He had to be on the airship at 0900, which he was not going to make if he stuck around long enough to _repay the favor_. James waved him off, standing.

“Go on, don’t worry about it. I’ll see you at the meeting later?”

All business again. As if he hadn’t just had Clover’s dick in his mouth and wasn’t half-hard from it. If punctuality wasn’t so important to Clover, he’d be offended by that.

“Right,” he said. “Maybe we can have dinner later? There’s that new noodle place that’s supposed to be really good.”

He’d been itching to try this Mistralian joint. His whole team kept raving about it. And it was casual enough that it wouldn’t seem weird, on the off-chance anyone spotted them there. 

“It might be a long day,” James said, standing. “I don’t want you to have to wait up for me. Why don’t you go with Qrow?”

A little curl of disappointment tugged at his heart. He focused on securing his belt, hiding his expression. Fine, he could order an extra portion and take it to James after. At the very least, the man had to eat.

“Sure,” he said. “I…I’ll swing by after, okay? I’m guessing you’ll still be here.”

James smiled, warmly. “I’d like that.”

He checked himself over, patting his hair. It did seem a little askew. Especially the back, which he’d rather aggressively ground against the backrest of the sofa while James did unspeakable things to his nether regions.

“Fuck, now I have to run this mission with _sex hair,_ ” he muttered, trying to comb his unruly locks. There was a _reason_ he kept his hair fairly short.

James’s eyebrows flew up. “Sex hair?”

Clover rolled his eyes. “Yeah, Elm and Vine think that they can tell when I have–never mind, it’s stupid. Could you just help me fix my hair?”

“Of course,” James said. He ran his hands over Clover’s hair, smoothing it into place. He frowned, after a bit.

“What?” Clover said. “Does it look okay?”

“Hmm, something’s not right,” James said. He fluffed up the front and started over. “How do you normally do it?”

Clover shrugged. “I just kind of…” He mimed the motion, above his head. “…and it usually works out. I try to think positive thoughts.”

James peered at him. “You use your semblance to do your hair.”

“Don’t judge me,” he said. James didn’t know what it was like. Clover had seen him in the mornings. He simply combed his hair when it was wet and it just came out like that, soft and glossy and naturally falling into a sexy wave. Even now, it had reverted to its original flawless pattern with a shake of James’s head, despite the fact that Clover had had his sweaty hands up in it just a few minutes ago.

“Well, try it now.” James said, mouth quirked in amusement.

“It would be easier if I could _see_ it,” he said. He pulled out his scroll, using the camera to reflect his image.

“Here, let me…” James said, holding it steady in front of him.

“Ah, perfect.”

Clover flicked his pin and got to work. He’d already wished for a good day, and considering James had just sucked his brains out through his cock, it was coming true just fine. Maybe he could mix it up a bit. He ran his fingers through his hair, wishing to avoid his father’s calls. That should do nicely.

He examined his image, checking the back of his head to make sure he didn’t have that weird cowlick he sometimes got. It was strange looking at a scroll instead of a mirror, but his hair seemed pretty okay. Maybe a little flatter than it was this morning, but decent. 

“How’s that?” he asked, looking up at James. Who was staring at him hungrily.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” he said, grinning.

“Hmm,” James said, his gaze trailing a little lower. “I can think of a few I’d like to take.”

“Oh yeah?” Clover said, quirking an eyebrow. He leaned back against the arm of the couch, idly toying with the buttons of his vest. James’s eyes followed his fingers, Clover’s scroll still clutched in his hands. “Maybe I could send you one, later?”

“ _Clover…_ ”

“I mean, it’s only fair, since you didn’t get to…”

This was a phenomenally bad idea. But also, maybe an incredibly good one. Clover liked being desired, so sue him. The thought that James would have a little _visual reminder_ of him when they were apart…his hand wandered a little lower. If James was going to blow him off, he should know what he was missing.

Clover’s scroll chirped. Not the bad tone, thankfully. James cursed, fumbling.

Clover laughed, pushing off of the couch. “I should get going,” he said. He looked James up and down, as the other man gave him his scroll back. “I…wouldn’t mind it if you sent one too, you know.”

James huffed. “I don’t think I’d make as pretty a picture.”

He was a little self-conscious about his body. Clover understood why, but he tried to discourage the notion. It’s just that the metal woven in amongst flesh was so beautiful, such a marker of the strength of the man. It always took his breath away, to see James laid bare.

“I don’t know about that,” Clover said. “I think you’re a work of art.”

He stepped closer, trailing his fingers up James’s right arm. As he reached James’s shoulder he flattened his hand, smoothing his palm across the other man’s chest. And then lower, fingertips dancing over his ribcage. James wore so many layers; he was so buttoned up. It was such a joy to see him come apart, piece by piece. Just for Clover.

“Clover,” James gasped, and then he was pulling Clover in, one hand at his waist and the other at the back of his head as they kissed passionately.

His scroll chirped again.

James froze, chuckling into Clover’s ear. “I think I just undid all of your work.”

“I’ll just say I slept on it weird,” Clover said. “What the fuck does Elm know, anyway?”

* * *

Qrow couldn’t believe it. He was the first person at the airpad. He checked his scroll; he was actually _one minute early_. This had simply never happened before. Sobriety was a whole other world. It didn’t really explain what had happened to everyone else, though.

At 9 on the dot, Clover jogged up, looking a bit scattered. Nevertheless, he greeted Qrow with a smile so blinding that he couldn’t actually look at it directly.

“Qrow, perfect! How’s your morning…where is everyone?”

Qrow shrugged. He’d met with James after the main briefing, then he ran into Pietro and they’d talked shop for a good bit of time. That had all been in the last _hour._ It was remarkable what you could get done in a morning when you didn’t have a hangover, though he still didn’t think the briefings needed to happen _this_ early. Qrow had standards, and those standards were sleep. And coffee.

Clover frowned, probably working up a stern lecture in his mind. “Never mind, this is actually good. Do I have…uh. Is my hair okay?”

Qrow stared at him. “It’s hair. It’s fine.”

Clover rolled his eyes. “No, but is it different than…does it look like I’ve been…” He flushed a bit.

Now that Qrow looked at it, Clover’s hair _was_ kind of a mess. He had just come from meeting Jimmy, hadn’t he? Oh, for the love of…

This was torture, and he only had himself to blame. He never should have agreed to Jimmy’s little request, because now Clover was everywhere he looked, all the time, and his little crush had not abated at all. In fact, the more he got to know Clover the worse it got–his penchant for collecting information was destroying him. He now knew that Clover was an only child but had beloved cousins who were practically siblings. That he loved to cook, and was an avid reader of detective novels. And Qrow could now differentiate the spring in Clover’s step from just getting laid from the one he got when he’d just pet a dog. Right now, it was the former.

And _Qrow_ was opening up, too. Clover was ridiculously easy to talk to. He found himself sharing stories (unbidden!) of his time at Beacon, teaching at Signal, Ruby and Yang’s childhood, and even joking– _joking–_ about some of the more absurd aspects of life in the tribe growing up.

It was like a skillet on the stovetop, tempting and dangerous. He knew he shouldn’t touch, but Clover was...well. Hot.

Qrow raised an eyebrow. There was no reason he had to make this easy. “Go on. Like you’ve been…?”

“I will buy you dinner if you help me fix my hair before Elm sees it,” Clover blurted out.

This was probably a bad idea, but free food was always nice. He could rationalize it that way, at least. And Clover’s hair looked _very_ soft.

With a sigh, he reached up and ran his fingers through the little tuft, restoring it to its former glory. Clover had no business being so sun-kissed, in this frigid wasteland. But his hair was highlighted in red and gold, catching the light as Qrow coaxed the strands into place. As he scritched his nails lightly at the crown of Clover’s head, the other man made a little hum of approval. Qrow’s cheeks flushed, and he pulled his hand back. Clover was either evil or he was completely oblivious.

Clover checked his reflection in his scroll’s camera, letting out a low whistle. “Damn, I should’ve known you’d be good at this. Your hair always looks so perfect.”

This was just how Clover talked, he was learning. Endless praise, delivered as casually as he might have relayed the weather. At least around Qrow. But probably other people, right? Clover was in a relationship. He certainly wasn’t _flirting_.

“There’s this noodle place that’s supposed to be really good, wanna check it out tonight?” Clover asked.

“Uh…sure.”

Cover winked at him. “Great. It’s a– “

“Sorry boss, those little twerps thought they could pull one over on us,” Elm said, walking up with Vine. She threw them a grin. “Had to put ‘em in their place. Good job with the sex hair, I can hardly tell.”

“Eat my ass, Ederne,” Clover said, scowling.

“I think we all know who the right man for that job is,” Vine said, glancing at Qrow.

That…didn’t prove anything.

Before Clover could reply, there was a red and white blur and a burst of rose petals, and then Ruby and Weiss were standing there.

“Sorry we’re late!” Ruby cried.

Weiss looked like she wanted to die. “Captain, I _sincerely_ apologize for our tardiness. I promise, it won’t happen again.”

Elm laughed, grabbing Ruby in a headlock with her right arm and doing the same to Weiss with her left. Both girls let out yelps of protest as they struggled in her hold. “My fault, boss. Vine and I hid their weapons. Trust me, they had it coming.”

Qrow chuckled, shaking his head. Of course, the girls had started some sort of _prank war_ with the Ace Ops. So that was what all that giggling had been about, last night. Plus the commotion this morning. All Qrow asked for was some level of plausible deniability. And for nobody to mess with _his_ shit.

Clover frowned, crossing his arms. “I can’t believe you tampered with another Huntress’s weapon. You two know better than that.”

“There was no tampering,” Vine said. “We merely placed them on a tall shelf.”

Elm grinned, releasing Ruby and Weiss with a laugh. “That’s the genius part. You should’ve seen the crazy places these kids looked, before they figured it out.”

Clover put a hand to his temple. “Let’s just keep it off the job next time, all right people?”

As they loaded into the airship, Ruby and Elm traded playful barbs while Weiss complained that she’d _told_ the others it was a bad idea the _whole time._ Qrow let the banter wash over him, a little warmth pooling in his heart. Prank war or no, it was good seeing the kids get comfortable somewhere.

Apparently, he wasn’t the only one. He noticed the smile threatening to break at the corners of Clover’s mouth.

“Careful, Lucky Charm.” Qrow said, bumping the operative with his elbow. “Your professional demeanor is cracking.”

Clover’s scroll sounded, and he went absolutely stiff. He silenced the call without even looking at it. Qrow sighed. It was nice while it lasted.

“That’s not the only thing that’s cracking,” Clover muttered, barely audible. The shuttered look on his face was so out of place. Qrow just wanted to…to reach over and…

Oh, no. This was worse than he thought. He had _feelings_.

* * *

The mission ended up being a cakewalk, which was a nice change of pace. They were supposed to identify potential resources for Amity in an abandoned encampment south of the city. This particular location had been a mini trading hub, hence the potential dust. But the place was abandoned for a reason. Grimm had moved in, making their home amongst the hollowed-out buildings. Their combined efforts had cleared out the threat in about half the allotted time, leaving them with a lot of down time before they had to head back to the airship pickup. Clover had split them up for perimeter sweeps, but it was all quiet on his end.

Which meant that Clover was currently alone behind an old dust shop, contemplating taking a sexy photo.

He had maybe five minutes, all told. So nothing too racy, this first time. He’d see how James reacted before stepping it up.

Clover unbuttoned his vest, letting the fabric fall open. He pulled his gray tank top up, exposing his stomach, and held his scroll up with his other hand, camera flipped toward him. Hmm. He examined the image…it was still pretty tame. After a little consideration, he unbuttoned his trousers, palming himself until he was half-hard. That would do nicely.

Before he could have second thoughts, he bit his lip and looked up through his lashes into the lens, snapped a pic, added a cute caption, and sent it off to James.

Done. Who’d be having a _long day_ now, huh?

* * *

“Pietro, do you have a minute? There’s something wrong with my scroll.”

The old man looked up from his workbench as James entered the lab, squinting through his glasses. He held out his hand.

“Of course, James.”

James handed it over. “It was fine this morning, but now my passcode’s not working. I think some of my messages have been getting dropped, too.”

It was the strangest thing. Normally his days were a flurry of calls, but it had been unusually quiet. Not that he didn’t appreciate a little reprieve, but now he was worried. Gods, the last thing they needed was some kind of disruption in Atlas’s _internal_ communication system.

“Hmm, let’s take a look,” Pietro said, docking the scroll. As the display flickered up, the scroll dinged and a message came in from…Clover.

Oh, no.

He lunged for the scroll, but it was too late.

_CE: omg want_

_[image attachment]_

James’s heart leapt out of his chest as Pietro turned to him, chuckling.

“Ah. I see the problem. This is Mr. Branwen’s scroll. Looks tasty, though.”

He let out a breath, shaking his head. On the display was a screengrab from a restaurant review site, showing a rather attractive bowl of noodles. Years. _Years_ of his life had just been taken from him.

“Right. Thank you, Pietro.”

“Anytime,” Pietro said, with a laugh. “I’ll take more easy problems like that any day. You better get that back to him, or he’ll be getting calls from the Council.”

James plucked the scroll from the dock, pocketing it. The thought of it _was_ a bit funny. Gods, he could just imagine Qrow taking his calls from the Council. Or from Winter. Or Jacques Schnee. Or from…

“I have to go!” he called, sprinting out of the room. He could hear Pietro’s full belly laugh halfway down the hall.

* * *

“This is _so cool!_ I feel like we’re _real Huntresses_ , going out on missions.”

Qrow reached down, ruffling Ruby’s hair fondly. “You are real Huntresses. You’ve earned it, pipsqueak.”

Ruby squirmed away. “Uncle Qrow, stoooop!”

His scroll buzzed. Qrow pulled it out, curious. It was from Clover. Was there something wrong? He was just on the other side of the encampment. Qrow opened the message.

_CE: Can’t wait to see you tonight ;)_

_[Image attachment]_

Qrow dropped the scroll like he’d been burned. Was that…had Clover just sent him…

“You okay, Uncle Qrow? You dropped your– “

“I’m fine!”

He fumbled for the scroll, before Ruby could see it. Gods, just what he needed. His niece to be traumatized by those searing teal eyes. And that flat stomach, the trail of hair leading down to a sizeable…

Qrow was in shock. Ruby was still talking, but he only had half an ear for it.

He wondered if Clover had taken any other…nope. One was enough to think about. Gods, the sight of it was going to be burned into the back of his eyeballs when he tried to sleep at night. Which would be a nice bonus after he _went blind_.

How. How had this happened? Clover was…he was _evil._ There was no misinterpreting it. He had taken Qrow, and he had broken him. And now Qrow was useless and horny.

He stuffed his scroll in his pocket. Maybe if he never thought about it again, it would be okay.

As they entered the little town square, Clover sauntered back into view. His cheeks were a little flushed. Qrow pulled him aside, as Ruby relayed their uneventful perimeter check to Weiss and Elm and Vine.

“So uh…tonight, huh? That was…some picture.”

Clover winked at him. “Looks good, huh? I know Elm kind of spilled the beans. But joke’s on you, I was planning on paying anyway.”

Correction: Clover was evil _and_ cocky. He clapped Qrow on the back as he walked away, a little sway in his hips.

All right. If this was the game Clover wanted to play, then this was war.

* * *

Clover checked his scroll, noting the time. They…really had nothing to do until the airship came back around. He sent a little thanks to his semblance. But then again, maybe it was all skill. 

He was really impressed with Ruby and Weiss. They were much more disciplined than he’d anticipated when James had informed him they’d be teaming up with a bunch of students. And they had excellent communication, tackling the Grimm jointly. Clover’s team had learned to work together, but it was a bit like herding cats. Every member of the Ace Ops, save maybe Vine, was used to being the star of the show. Himself included, he could admit. They complemented each other on the big moves, but sometimes they struggled with the small stuff.

Maybe this would be a mutually beneficial exchange.

“Looks like we’ve still got a bit of time to kill before we head back to the rendezvous point,” he noted, glancing around.

“What should we do?” Ruby asked, weapon at the ready. Eager, he liked that.

Clover supposed they could do one more sweep. It’s just that they’d already done several. And he suddenly found himself with a bit more steam to blow off than anticipated. He knew just the cure. There was a hill on the edge of town that was _calling_ to him.

“I have an idea,” he said. “Come with me.”

He poked through the wreckage of what might have been a public house, once. There was plenty of scrap metal around, a little bonus for Mantle’s wall. The salvage team would have plenty to do. But what Clover was interested in had one more job, before it got melted down.

“Ah,” he said, entering what had once been the kitchen. “Perfect.”

The roof on this room had held under the pressure of snow, miraculously. So the metal rack full of commercial-sized sheet trays was free of rust. And there were plenty of other vehicles. Large plastic tubs, stock pots, deep roasting pans. No good garbage can lids, which was a shame, but Clover was sure talent could transcend second-best equipment.

“All right, people,” he said. “Pick your weapon.”

Weiss looked around. “For…?”

Vine gave him a stoic look. “This is an obsession. You have a problem.”

“Nonsense,” he said, clearing his throat. “Let’s meet at the top of the hill. Choose wisely, because we _will_ be racing.”

“Harriet’s gonna be so pissed,” Elm said, picking a large sheet tray. “I’ll give you rookies a couple of pointers. You want a slick bottom, but something you can steer. Don’t wanna be careening into your opponent.”

Ruby’s eyes lit up, as she made the connection. “Are we…are we _sledding?”_

He grinned. “Absolutely.”

She let out a whoop as Weiss stuttered in surprise. Ruby zipped around the kitchen, examining each potential vehicle. Weiss looked a little lost. With sadness, he realized she might not have done this before, despite growing up in Atlas. He handed her a medium-sized roasting pan, with taller sides and rounded corners.

“Think aerodynamics,” he said. “This should just about fit you.”

“I…thanks,” Weiss said. She gave him a grateful smile, scampering off to assist Ruby.

Clover plucked a couple of the large sheet trays for himself, plus a few extras. They would be _just_ big enough for doubles, he thought.

“Sledding, really?” Qrow asked. The Huntsman came up alongside him, a grin playing at his mouth.

“One of the many pleasures of Atlas,” Clover said. “I’m not planning on going easy on you, just so you know.”

“Hmph,” Qrow snorted, looking him up and down. “You’re on, Lucky Charm. We’ll see who comes out on top.”

His heart raced inexplicably at Qrow’s challenge. Huh. That was…he was just excited, is all. Qrow was just…exciting. Competitively.

They made their way to the top of the hill. Elm and Clover with their sheet trays, Qrow and Vine with large roasting pans. Weiss with her smaller one, and Ruby with an ill-advised but maybe possibly genius oversized mixing bowl. There was fresh powder on the hillside, so it took a couple runs to slick it up. But oh, what a joy it was to tumble into soft snow over and over again. Clover felt like a child, the ghost of his mother’s laughter in his ear.

“Not bad, Cloves,” Qrow teased. “You like to go fast, huh?”

He…definitely did not catch his breath at that. Or think back to Qrow’s fingers in his hair this morning, the little tingle that had worked its way down his spine.

“That’s enough practice,” Elm announced. “Let’s do this!”

“All right, people,” Clover called. “House rules: we go _on_ three, not one-two-three, go. I’m not taking that excuse again, Elm. Sprunking your competitors is allowed and encouraged, but no weapons and no semblances. Trust me, it’s better to win without.”

Brothers, did he know that. Hadn’t he been told, time and time again. As if on cue, his scroll chimed his father’s tone. He ignored it. Not today, not now. Now was for fun, something the Colonel had never understood.

“Ready? One…two… _three!”_

Ruby’s bowl was swift, but as Clover suspected it was difficult to balance. In the six-way heat she crashed into Elm halfway down the hill, taking them both out. Clover slid neatly into first, Qrow hot on his heels. Weiss took third, and Vine came in fourth.

He turned to Qrow, triumphant. “Looks like I’m on top.”

Qrow huffed, giving him a devilish look. “Is that really what you want?”

Clover’s face flushed as his resolve immediately crumbled. This was ridiculous, Elm was just getting in his head. Or he was just keyed up from taking that stupid picture. _This_ was why he shouldn’t bring his sex life to work. Qrow was just giving him shit, and Clover was an idiot with his mind in the gutter.

“We’ve got time for one more run,” he announced, putting aside foolish feelings. “Teams?”

“I call Uncle Qrow!” Ruby said, arms in the air. Qrow rolled his eyes, but gave her shoulder an affectionate punch.

He nudged Weiss. “Partners?” 

She gave him a determined look. “Let’s crush them.”

Elm put her hands on her hips. “Seriously? Vine, I love you but you’re slow as molasses.”

“It’s not about the destination, it’s about the journey,” Vine said, serenely.

A nice sentiment, but it was _explicitly_ about the destination in this case. And who could reach it fastest. Which would definitely be Clover and Weiss. Elm and Vine had the combined weight advantage, but Clover knew sledding inside and out. Even without using his luck, they could win this.

He situated Weiss in front of him on the sheet tray, bracketing her with his legs. “Try to stay compact, we’ll go faster that way. I’ll be the ballast, here, but you’re the eyes and you’ll be in charge of steering. Got it?”

She nodded. “Got it.”

“Ready?” he called, looking over at the other two makeshift sleds. Ruby and Qrow were poised, eager to take the crown. Qrow gave him a cocky smirk. Past them, Elm and Vine were crammed onto a single sheet tray in a mess of limbs.

“Vine, you wanna call it?”

“One…two…three!”

Clover pushed off with a powerful shove. As he suspected, Elm and Vine’s center of gravity was all off. No, they were neck and neck with Ruby and Qrow for first. Weiss had a firm grasp on the front edges of the sheet tray, effectively steering. But Ruby was gunning for them. They kept edging ever closer, threatening to bump Clover and Weiss off course.

Weiss glared at them. “Would you back off, you–Ruby!”

The opposing sleds made contact, halfway down the hill. But there was far too much force in it, and instead of the gentle bump it was a full-on crash. Clover’s world was a tumble of snow and limbs for a moment, until he found himself lying in a snow bank underneath the warm body of one Qrow Branwen. He looked up at Qrow, cheeks flushed, as he felt the other Huntsman’s firm weight against him. Huh. Qrow was…a lot more built than he looked. This was…it was kind of…

“Who’s on top now, Lucky Charm?”

Elm whooped, breaking him out of his thoughts. “I can’t believe it, we actually won! This is going on the leaderboard, right?”

Qrow rolled off of him, standing and offering his hand. Everything was a mess around them; his scroll had been knocked from his pocket and their makeshift sled was lying five feet away. Qrow pulled him up, his hand warm even through Clover’s glove.

Weiss groaned, brushing the snow from her hair. “We almost had it!”

“Uncle Qrow, you did that on purpose!” Ruby accused, as she got to her feet. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, speed demon, I was just trying to keep you on track.”

Ruby and Weiss exchanged looks.

“The group chat will be the judge of that,” Weiss noted.

“I think that’s probably a good sign to quit here,” Clover said, trying to regain a little authority over the situation. “Let’s clean up and head to the pickup.”

Clover focused on brushing the snow from his clothes. It was everywhere, in his hair and down the collar of his shirt and stuck to the clasps of his boots. He shook out the tail of his vest, trying to dislodge a clump of snow that had worked its way up the small of his back.

“Let me help you with that,” Qrow said, his voice low. He swept his hands across Clover’s body, swift and efficient, while Clover’s face slowly reddened.

“Uh…thanks.”

“Looks good,” Qrow said, finishing by giving Clover’s ass a firm brush. He walked away, leaving Clover standing there with his mouth open.

He was losing it.

* * *

Qrow should have enjoyed the high while it lasted, because two things happened as soon as he pulled his little stunt. One, Clover’s father apparently called, because he’d absolutely locked up on the airship back to Atlas. And two, Jimmy cornered him as soon as they touched down. He grabbed ahold of Qrow’s arm, pulling him aside. “Qrow, a word.”

Qrow yanked his arm free, as the rest of the group headed back inside. “What?”

“I need your scroll for a moment,” James said, in full authoritative mode. “I’ll get it right back to you, I promise.”

He frowned. “What for?”

James paused. “Just a quick modification. From Pietro. Everyone’s getting it.”

He held out his hand, as if that was that.

“Do someone else first,” Qrow said, panic clawing at his chest. He couldn’t give James his scroll, because it had _that picture_ on it. Oh gods, now he just felt guilty. Regret flooded through him. James had put his trust in Qrow and he’d gone and seduced the man’s boyfriend. He was a homewrecker.

His semblance had struck again.

He tried walking around James, but the taller man blocked his path. “I need yours first.”

“Why?”

“Because…” James trailed off. He clearly didn’t have a good answer. Qrow darted to the other side, James mirroring the motion.

“Jimmy, would you get out of my way?” he said, scowling. “I need to change before this stupid meeting of yours.”

“I can’t let you do that, I’m afraid.” James said. “Qrow, I– “

Qrow transformed into a bird and flew off, in a miserable panic.

Back in his room, he groaned. No, that wasn’t suspicious at _all_. Jimmy was probably already on to him. He knew all about Qrow’s stupid little crush and this whole ‘look after Clover’ setup was just some sort of…of _test_. Which he’d failed miserably.

He sat on the bed, the offending piece of technology in his hands, as he desperately tried to come up with a plan.

The scroll sounded and he almost dropped it.

_[Incoming Call from CE]_

He answered the call, frantic. “Cloves? I can’t do this, I’m sorry. You’re so fucking hot and I want you so bad and all I could think about today was getting you alone so I could screw you six ways till Sunday, but I just. I can’t. I’m not a good person. And you should just…just forget you ever met me. I’m not worth it.”

There was a long silence on the other end. Clover was probably working his way up to one of his uplifting speeches. He needed to be strong, to resist.

“…Who is this?”

Qrow blinked. That wasn’t Clover’s voice. It was markedly deeper, and incredibly stern.

“Who is _this?_ And why do you have Clover’s scroll?”

“I don’t. I dialed _my son’s_ scroll.”

Qrow pulled the scroll from his ear, examining it more closely. The little icon next to Clover’s initials, which in _his_ scroll had a picture of Clover, instead just displayed the Atlas emblem. CE. The Colonel. _Colonel Ebi._

“Now, young man. Why don’t you answer my very simple question. Who. Are. You.”

Qrow hung up.

_Brothers,_ the crash. He must have picked up Clover’s scroll. He threw himself down on the bed, moaning. He’d just made everything ten times worse. There was no way out of it, he just had to come clean. Talk to Clover. Talk to James. Then fly into the sun.

There was a pounding at his door. “Uncle Qrow!” Yang called. “You’re gonna be late for the meeting!”

He moaned again. This stupid meeting. He wanted to die.

* * *

Clover wanted to die.

This was psychological warfare. His scroll was blowing up. And it was _that tone,_ every single time. His father was now just calling, and texting, nonstop. He’d long since silenced his scroll, but he knew they were still coming in. Hopefully no one else had tried to contact him, because he sincerely never wanted to look at a scroll again. He considered just chucking his off the edge of Atlas.

Add to that the weird feelings he was having around Qrow, and he was starting to doubt his whole semblance. Oh gods, and then they were supposed to have dinner. And then he was supposed to see _James_.

He was a terrible boyfriend, and a terrible son, and he would never be good enough and he could never let anyone see what a mess he was.

Not even this meeting could cheer him up. James frowned at him as he came in, but he was busy talking to Winter. Clover bypassed his team and hid in the back of the briefing room, trying not to have a single thought as he waited for James to start.

* * *

“Are you…gonna answer that?” Yang asked, as they reached the briefing room.

She had given Qrow a concerned look as she and Blake dragged him off to the meeting, but she didn’t bug him about it too much. He was still wearing the slightly damp clothes from the mission, and he probably looked a mess. And his scroll–well, Clover’s–was going off every two minutes. Clover’s dad was probably pissed.

“No.”

She frowned. “Anything you wanna tell me?”

He sighed. “Don’t worry about it, Firecracker. It’s a wrong number. Just some asshole.”

“Oh, so _that’s_ why you’re not answering the group chat.”

There was another reason for that, and it was in Clover’s pants. Pocket.

“Uh, right.”

“Yeah, well Ruby says it’s on, so watch your back.”

James was at the front of the room, with Winter. He beckoned Qrow over. Qrow pretended like he didn’t see. Instead, he made his way to the back of the room where he usually…huh. Clover _never_ sat at the back. He always had to be in the front like the fucking teacher’s pet. Instead he was in the last row, slouched in his seat, staring at the ceiling with that same shuttered look he’d had in the airship this morning.

Clover’s scroll rang again. Qrow scowled, then ducked out of the room. He looked around the hall, making sure he was alone, then answered the call.

“Clover can’t talk right now, I’m doing him sexual favors. Now buzz off and don’t call back, motherfucker.”

He hung up.

Gods, that felt good. He smiled, flipping the scroll up in the air and catching it.

“Qrow!”

He fumbled the catch and the scroll clattered to the ground as James rushed over. As he went to pick it up, the taller man intercepted him, grabbing him in a bone-crushing hug.

“…James?”

“I just want you to know, you’re my very closest friend and I truly cherish your company. I don’t tell you that enough. So I…am. Now.”

James cleared his throat, releasing him. “That’s all.”

Qrow just stood there, shocked.

James bent, retrieving the scroll. “Looks like you dropped this.”

He took it, feeling the guilt flow back. “Thanks. Hey, uh…I’ve gotta talk to you about something, when you get the chance.”

“Of course,” James said, leading him back into the briefing room. “Maybe tomorrow morning? I want to ask you about Clover, too. He’s looking a bit rough.”

Right. Clover.

* * *

James cleared his throat, and Clover finally looked down. James popped a data drive into his scroll and docked it at the front, pulling up his presentation.

“Thank you all for coming. My apologies for starting a bit late, we had some technical difficulties. I’m pleased to say that we’ve made quite a bit of progress in the last week. Clover has informed me that you’re all working well together already, and that should only continue to improve over time. For this next phase of the project we’ll need to focus on…”

“Psst. Lucky Charm.”

Clover turned his head. Qrow was holding out a scroll, a guilty look on his face. Clover hadn’t even noticed him sitting down. “I think this is yours. We must’ve swapped in the crash.”

He blinked, a faint warmth creeping up his neck as he thought back to the incident. Qrow’s breath on his cheek. Lean muscle pressed against his body.

Clover coughed, taking the scroll and handing over Qrow’s. “Uh, thanks. You got about a million calls, sorry.”

Thank the Brothers. It wasn’t his father.

“Yeah, uh…about that.” Qrow mumbled, rubbing the back of his head. “Your dad called. That’s how I knew it was yours.”

Spoke too soon. Clover groaned, softly. He could have kicked himself. The _wish_ this morning. He should have known better when using his semblance–specificity could backfire. He shook his head, letting out a breath.

“Oh gods, I’m so sorry.”

Qrow grimaced. “Actually, I’m sorry. I, uh, may have told him to buzz off and leave you alone. And that I was doing you sexual favors.”

“You _what?_ ”

James looked up from his presentation. “Clover, did you have a question?”

Everyone turned to look at him. He flushed red. “Never mind, sir, answered it myself.”

“…Right. As I was saying, our engineers estimate that the relay technology will need periodic maintenance through…”

Qrow gave him an apologetic look. “Sorry,” he whispered. “And sorry about your old man. I, uh…I hope I didn’t mess anything up too bad.”

It was strange. The damage was done. And Clover was…kind of happy. It certainly wouldn’t make the conversation any easier, when they did have it. Which they would have to, eventually. But the fact that Qrow had stood up to the old bastard…for _him._ A dopey smile worked its way onto his face. He was sure he was making heart eyes at the other man.

“No, you…you’re good,” he choked out. “Great, even.”

Qrow looked away, a hint of red high on his cheeks.

This day had just been very confusing.

Clover carefully put those thoughts in a little box for later. Right, back on task. He turned his attention back to the front of the room. Winter was giving some kind of report. Gods, he was really gonna need to check the minutes on this meeting.

“We have some updated surveillance photos, sir.”

“Ah,” James said. “Yes, if you could send those to me I’ll put them up.”

Winter’s eyebrow twitched. “Did you not…right. Yes, sir, I’ll send them again.”

He leaned over to Qrow and murmured in his ear. “Technical difficulties, huh?”

Qrow made a loud snort of amusement as Winter tapped at her scroll. She paused to glare at him.

The box would not stay shut. He could feel the heat of Qrow’s body next to him, their legs pressed together. Qrow was looking down at his scroll, probably trying to check his eight million messages. He studied the fine hairs at the back of Qrow’s neck. It looked so soft. He wondered what it would feel like, under his fingers.

“Did you…I’m not seeing it here, Schnee.”

“Huh. My passcode’s not working,” Qrow muttered. “Fuck, did I already forget it?”

He tore his gaze from Qrow’s neck. Qrow was frowning as he tried his code again.

“I just sent it, sir.”

“Can you try it again, it’s not…”

“What the _fuck_ ,” Qrow said, throwing his hands in the air.

“Qrow, if you could just _try_ to be professional here,” Winter admonished.

“We’re just waiting for you two to figure out your own stupid Atlas technology!” Qrow snapped, loud enough for the room to hear. “How are we supposed to build a communication tower when we can’t even make it through this gods-damned presentation?”

Winter glared, then turned back to James. “It’ll be an image file, sir. Maybe we should take a short break?”

Clover suppressed a laugh. Qrow was cute when he was cranky, but it wouldn’t be professional to encourage it in front of everyone. Not that he’d been especially professional today. There was quite a bit of cross-chatter now, as they all waited for Winter and James to figure out their issue. He tried to subtly check his own scroll, to see what else he’d missed. He tapped in the code, frowning when it refused to open.

“Mine’s not working, either.”

He tried again. Clover had to be losing it, there was no way he had forgotten his own anniversary. Oh gods, maybe this was some kind of metaphor for his wandering thoughts, and the universe was punishing him by making him stupider.

Qrow shook his head. “Also, it says I got eleven messages from Ice Queen.”

That was…weird. Winter hated Qrow. He peered over Qrow’s shoulder as he swiped through the notifications. Sure enough, behind a message that Ruby had just sent, there was a long string of messages from Winter. And then one from…him. With an image.

He looked up at Qrow in horror, only to see the same expression mirrored back at him. They stared dumbly at each other for a moment, and then Qrow was shoving the scroll back into his pocket, face absolutely scarlet. There was a minor, relatively silent tussle as Clover made a grab for it, the result being that he was mostly just palming Qrow’s ass.

There was a snicker from in front of them and they froze, looking up. Ruby and Weiss were half turned around, peering back at them. Ruby had an absolutely evil look on her face, and Weiss hid a giggle behind her hand.

Clover took advantage of the distraction to finally grab hold of the offending scroll. _How_ had he possibly sent that to _Qrow?_ He pulled up the message, deleting the offending photo and message.

“ _Gods,_ I’m so sorry,” he muttered, handing the scroll back. “I don’t know how I…that was…I meant to send that to _James.”_

Poor Qrow probably thought Clover had been coming on to him _all day_. Which he was. Except he wasn’t. Except he wanted to. Except he shouldn’t.

Qrow shook his head in misery, pushing the scroll away. “Cloves, you don’t understand. _That is not my scroll_.”

Clover blinked. “What?”

“Look at the messages from Winter.”

He tapped one of Winter’s messages, and was greeted with a roll of surveillance photos. Huh. Experimentally, he tried his passcode on the scroll he’d _thought_ was Qrow’s. It opened right up.

His anniversary. Of his first date with James.

Clover’s head hurt. “This is James’s. And it’s the one I was carrying. Then whose scroll is he…”

He pushed the other scroll into Qrow’s hands. Please, please, please. “Tell me this is not yours.”

Qrow frowned at him. “That can’t be mine. I _talked to your father_. I definitely had yours when I walked in here, he called right before Jimmy gave me that weird…”

He trailed off, as the scroll unlocked at the tap of his long fingers.

Oh, no. Good luck, meet bad luck. You’re going to get along swimmingly. 

“Maybe check your photos, sir?”

Qrow stared at him. “You…you deleted the…”

Clover shook his head, biting his lip.

“Ah, I do see a new file,” James said, at the front of the room. Next to the giant projector. That all his coworkers and an _actual child_ were staring at. “I think it’s in…let me pull this up.”

No, no, no.

Clover kissed his professional reputation goodbye. It was nice while it lasted. Brothers, he couldn’t look. He put his head between his legs, closed his eyes and wished for sweet death to come and take him.

There was a long silence, and then Winter spoke.

“Sir. Care to explain?”

There was a guffaw of laughter from the younger contingent, which was a little mean if you asked him. He snuck a look at Qrow. The other man’s face was a mask of pure mortification.

“Ms. Rose, I take it you’re responsible for this?”

What?

Clover looked up. He tilted his head to the side, contemplating the display before him. Instead of his… _personal_ photo, there was an image of Qrow. A very young-looking Qrow, smirking into the camera. In a skirt. Weiss and Ruby high-fived.

“You’re all welcome, by the way!” Ruby said, taking a little bow. “Ask him about his landing strategy when you get the chance.”

James put a hand to his temple. “Why don’t we take a five-minute break?”

Clover and Qrow hung back while the others dispersed.

“Did you just hug me so you could _steal my scroll?”_ Qrow asked, offended.

“It was my scroll,” James snapped. “We must have swapped this morning. And if you’d just given it to me earlier, this all could have been avoided.”

“Actually, it was mine,” Clover said, raising his hand. He tossed James his scroll. “There was a sledding incident. This is yours.”

James frowned. “Then how was I able to unlock it? My passcode…oh.”

He visibly deflated, all the agitation of the meeting gone, and gave Clover a soft smile. “That’s…that’s very sweet, Clover. I…really wish I could kiss you right now.”

Clover’s heart melted.

He sighed, plucking his scroll from the dock. He pulled up the offending image. “All right, you big softy, do you want to look at this before I delete it forever?”

Clover was serious about that. He was renouncing all technology and was moving to a monastery where neither dust nor sex would plague his life ever again. Actually, maybe a nunnery would be better. Monasteries had men.

James shook his head. “I think I’d prefer the real thing. We could still get that dinner, tonight?”

Clover hesitated, glancing at Qrow. “Oh, I actually…I made plans with…”

Qrow waved them off. “Don’t worry about it, lover boy, we’ll go some other time. You kids go have fun.”

“You’re _sure_ you’re not too busy?” he asked, turning back to James. “You missed a whole day of calls.”

“And yet, the world didn’t blow up. One more night won’t hurt. Apparently, the biggest consequence of this whole thing came from Qrow ignoring his group chat. Which is quite colorful, if I might add.”

Clover laughed. Maybe his semblance was working just fine. “Then yes, I’d like that very much.”

James gave him a warm smile. He put his hand on Qrow’s shoulder. “We’ll bring you back some takeout tomorrow, Qrow. Right after the briefing okay, for that talk?”

“Oh, uh…I’m actually fine,” Qrow said, shaking his head. “I figured it out myself.”

“All right, suit yourself,” James said. “You know you can ask me for anything.”

James flipped through his scroll, pulling up poor Winter’s surveillance photos. As he worked he chuckled softly to himself, shaking his head. “Gods, can you imagine if you’d actually sent that photo? I mean, I know what I just said, Qrow, but…well.”

Clover and Qrow locked eyes for a moment, before breaking into simultaneous and absolutely fake laughter.

“Haha, yeah that would be totally crazy,” he said.

“Heh, okay Jimmy I get the message,” Qrow added.

People started filtering back in, and they walked back to their seats. As they sat down, they both stared straight ahead.

“Never speak of this again?” Clover proposed.

“That's a hard yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had an honest to goodness excel spreadsheet for this chapter.


	4. See You Next Tuesday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clover goes to lunch. James takes care. Elm and Vine get a project.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A funny thing happened, when I moved from the more serialized format of (Breaking Like) to these episodic-style fics. There now comes a point, when I'm outlining these chapters, where I realize that to get from point A to point B I will need about eight scenes, and my already voluminous wordcount swells uncontrollably. So instead of killing myself and pushing out another 9k chapter, I decided to split it up into a mini-arc for readability...and my own sanity. Enjoy part 1 of The Dad Arc.

It could only be put off for so long. Clover had no control over it, much as he wanted to. Time marched forward, the world revolved around the sun, an endless cycle of death and rebirth, and eventually the third Tuesday of the month came around again.

“You can’t just rely on your luck, Clover. Hard work is important.”

Clover’s eye twitched. “I’m aware, sir.”

Something was off about this meeting. Whatever Qrow said to the Colonel must have really pissed him off, because he was laying into Clover with a vengeance. Clover supposed he had it coming. First, he dodged his father at the base, then he dodged his calls, then a strange man answered Clover’s scroll and said unspeakable things. This was absolutely some kind of payback.

“You’re never going to rise above Captain if you just keep wishing for a promotion,” his father said. “Especially not idling away as Ironwood’s personal lap dog.”

Clover cringed. The truth of it was worse. Until now, as far as his father knew, he’d never had sex, drank alcohol, or said a curse word. And he certainly hadn’t done all three with his _commanding officer_.

“I happen to like field work,” he said weakly, picking at his salad. He _liked_ the Ace Ops. He didn’t _want_ a promotion.

His father gave him a disapproving look, looking up from his own salad. “Life isn’t about only doing things we like, son. You’re a grown man, you should know that by now.”

Clover stabbed a tomato, feeling resentful. Maybe James would forgive him if he just blurted out the whole Salem thing pre-emptively. At least then he could put up a half-decent defense of his job.

“Your cousin made Major at twenty-eight, you know.”

“I know, I was there,” he muttered.

His father gave him a sharp look. “Don’t give me attitude, Clover. I’m trying to help you.” He sighed, turning back to his meal. “This is a pathetic excuse for a salad, by the way. What a waste of money.”

It was the _salad_ that was throwing Clover off. They came to this restaurant every single month, with its dimly lit booths and checkered tablecloths and owners who were probably racist, and Clover would struggle to pick a meal that wouldn’t be a total gut bomb in the middle of his workday while his father ordered the meatloaf. Every. Single. Time. The Colonel was a meat-and-potatoes kind of guy. Clover didn’t think he’d ever even _seen_ the man order a salad in a restaurant. _‘Why would I pay twenty lien for something I can make myself for a fraction of the cost? Is this how you spend your paycheck?’_

Maybe he just enjoyed complaining so much that he’d taken it up as a permanent hobby.

The Colonel shook his head. “If you don’t start taking your career seriously, Clover, you’re going to get passed over every time by some Atlas elite. I didn’t raise you to be so lazy.”

“No, sir,” he said, voice tight.

There were two easy ways to get to Atlas. You could pay a few lien and take a transport up from Mantle. Or you could be born there. Neither of which required any particular talent, as his father always said.

But if you were good enough, you could do what Clover’s grandparents had done and join the military, where you would get three squares a day, a place to sleep on base, and honest pay for honest work. The Atlas military was one of the few ways of cracking into the middle class, where a couple of poor kids from Mantle could pull themselves up the ranks by their bootstraps. It _was_ hard, he didn’t doubt that. To even get into the Academy you’d be competing the whole time against scions of industry who’d one day gotten a wild hare to fight and had all the privilege and resources they needed to hone their skill.

It all sounded very romantic when he was a child, but it set an impossible standard. Clover’s father still remembered the hardscrabble days, with his parents scrimping to pay the bills on newly enlisted salaries, trying to raise one son in a tiny apartment with another on the way. Meanwhile Clover had grown up an only child, with a nice soft bed in his own room in a house his parents owned in Atlas, which he retired to every night with a full stomach. He was preceded at the Academy by two generations of military legends, and then directly ahead of enrollment by two hotshot superstar cousins. And then Clover had the gall to have a luck semblance. _Soft_ was a word that got slung around their house a lot, actually.

All of this was to say, the Colonel did not approve of many of Clover’s flights of fancy.

They ate in blessed silence for a while. Thankfully, the Colonel’s mouth could only be occupied by one task at a time.

As the servers cleared their plates, his father pulled out his wallet to pay. Clover didn’t even bother trying to grab the check, anymore. “Let’s do this again next week,” his father said.

Clover blinked. “Excuse me? Why?”

For the first time since they’d sat down, his father’s stern demeanor showed signs of…not _cracking_ , per se. It was just different. In a weird way. That Clover did not like.

“I don’t believe I need a reason to want to see my only son,” he said, laying his money on the table.

Clover had many, many reasons to not want to see his father. Chief among them that he’d just gotten roasted for the last hour, and he would need a at least a full day to recover. That would only give him _six_ useful days until he had to see his father again.

“It’s really busy right now, I’ll have to check my schedule,” he said, in his best nonchalant tone. “What with the unrest in Mantle, and the wall needing repairs. Plus, we’re training up a whole batch of new Huntresses and Huntsmen. I’m just not sure I’ll have the time.”

His father fixed him with a look that made him feel like a teenager again, trying to wiggle out of whatever verbal corner he’d trapped himself in. “Are you telling me that Ironwood doesn’t even let you take the time for lunch? With your father? What about breakfast? Let’s go for three, Clover, how about dinner.”

“Sir…”

“Maybe I should just come down to the base, then? Since you’re so busy. I should at least be able to see whatever kind of frivolous distractions are keeping my son from making anything out of his life.”

Clover winced.

Okay. Damage control. This was clearly going to happen.

“I could do breakfast, next week,” he said, gritting his teeth. “I have to give a briefing at 0800 but I can do 0700, in the mess hall.”

It would be a terrible way to start the day, but at least he’d get it over with. He could tap out at 0730 if he said he needed to prep. Which he would. And he could pack the mess with people who might conveniently need him for something.

His father nodded. “I’ll add it to my schedule. Now was that so hard?”

He was sure it was a rhetorical question until the silence stretched. “No, sir,” he muttered, his shoulders tight.

The Colonel stood, in a clear dismissal. “Don’t slouch, Clover, it makes you look like a simpleton.”

* * *

James paced his office, waiting for Clover.

These meetings were a trial. Clover suffered from them both coming and going, so that once a month James would be trying to soothe an extremely anxious boyfriend followed by an extremely depressed boyfriend, who for all his dramatics tried to pretend he was feeling neither of those things.

There was a time, not far removed from mourning the loss of his own parents, that James would have heartily agreed that any family was precious, and worth trying for a relationship with. Then he met Jacques Schnee. His current feelings on the matter were a bit more complicated. Colonel Ebi was mostly harmless, in the grand scheme of things. But he was not at all a pleasant person to talk to. Or, he suspected, to be raised by.

“How did everything go?” he asked, as Clover entered his office.

Clover just walked to the sofa, lying down in a daze. “I have to see him again next week, for breakfast. I don’t know how it happened, James. The man is impossible to refuse.”

James leaned against the arm of the couch, next to Clover’s head. This was worse than usual. Clover looked like he’d just been run over by a truck. He stroked Clover’s hair, as he laid there. “You want me to take care of you?”

He didn’t specifically say, ‘ _do you want me to eat your ass until you pass out,’_ but he couldn’t deny past experience. There was a strong correlation. James was still gathering data.

Clover bit his lip, uncertain. “Later, okay? Tonight?”

This was even worse. Clover drank up attention like a sponge. If he was deferring, it meant the Colonel had gotten in his head. He flailed, at a loss for what to do.

“Of course,” James said. “Anything you want.”

“Can I just hang out here, for a minute?”

“I wish you would,” James said, clinging to the lifeline.

“You can go back to work if you want. I can…I’ll just…”

“I have some reports I can read,” he said, an idea sparking. “Here, sit up for a second.”

Clover did, and James slid in to the sofa. He coaxed Clover down so his head was in James’s lap, then ran his fingers through Clover’s hair. Clover sighed softly, shifting until he was comfortable.

“I can’t stay long, I have training at 1400,” he said, voice slow with exhaustion. “I need to prep.”

“You need to rest,” James said. Clover never slept well, the night before these meetings. “You’ll be fine, just do what you did last week.”

“They’re already better than they were last week,” Clover mumbled. “I need new shit.”

James felt a stab of guilt. He’d effectively tripled the size of Clover’s team when he brought in Qrow and his kids. And while he knew, professionally, that Clover could handle it, personally he just wanted his boyfriend to rest and relax and not feel any of this stress.

“Clover,” he said. Teal green eyes looked up at him, wide and vulnerable. “You are the leader of the most elite team of Huntsmen in Atlas. You’re smart, and you’re strong, and you’re an excellent teacher. You can wing it this once.”

Twin patches of pink rose on Clover’s cheeks. He worried at his lip with his teeth. “You don’t think I’m being lazy?”

In some ways, when they started getting close, it was easier for James to let his walls down than for Clover. James had a decent idea of what his faults were, he just had no idea how to correct them. He still didn’t. But Clover hid his pain under so many layers of optimism and good cheer and false bravado that getting to the heart of any problem was like swimming through molasses.

“Darling, of course not,” James said, stroking Clover’s cheek with his hand. “You already do so much. Will you let me help you out, for just a little while?”

Clover still looked uncertain, like he didn’t quite believe it. But he finally settled, giving James a little nod. “Will you– “

“I’ll set an alarm,” James said, already doing so with his other hand. He pulled up the reports he needed on his scroll, projecting them out so he could comfortably read. “Just rest, for now, can you do that for me?”

“Mmm,” Clover mumbled, with a yawn. His eyes fluttered closed.

“Good,” James said, petting Clover the way he knew the other man liked. Clover gave a sigh of contentment, as his breath evened out. “That’s it, you’re doing so well. Just relax, and breathe, and know that I’m here and I’ve got you.”

James studied the way Clover’s long brown lashes sat against his skin. The soft rise and fall of breath, as he drifted off.

Truth told, he didn’t get much reading done.

* * *

The breakfast was not going well.

“I’d like to meet this young man that you’re seeing.”

Clover almost choked on his coffee. “What?! That’s…there’s no…I’m not…”

His father peered at him from over his newspaper. “I’m not an idiot; I know you think I won’t approve of your love life. And don’t stutter.”

They purposely Did Not Talk about these things. He hadn’t even explicitly told his father he was gay, he’d simply taken a boy to prom. Poor Everett Thrush had gotten the grilling of his life, and then the Colonel ordered him to have Clover home by 2300 and not a second later. The old man was waiting up in the living room, of course. When Clover got home a little kiss-flushed but otherwise on time, his father frowned deeply. _‘I don’t think that boy has a single useful thought in his head,’_ his father said, before turning in for the night. No further dates were permitted.

Needless to say, he’d gone a little crazy when he got to the Academy. Elm still teased him about it. At least no one called him ‘ _Easy Ebi’_ anymore. To his face.

His father continued on, despite his silence. “Who is it, Clover, one of those clowns on your team? I know you hired a new one last year. Or one of the other various idiots on base I have to hear about you fooling around with through the grapevine? I think it’s about time I actually met one of these guys. Especially if he’s important enough that he’s answering your scroll.”

Clover grimaced. “Like I said, that was just a prank. Sorry, sir. I know you hate pranks. I’m really not seeing anyone.”

His father put down his newspaper. Uh-oh. This was serious. “Don’t lie to me, Clover.”

He squirmed under the scrutiny. What was he supposed to say? That he was seeing someone, but it was the exact person in the whole Kingdom that his father would least approve of? He could only imagine the lecture.

“…right.”

The Colonel turned back to his newspaper, taking a sip of coffee. “I expect the two of you for dinner on Sunday. 1900 should do fine.”

“But– “

“Unless there’s a Grimm attack, I don’t want to hear it. This is non-negotiable, son.”

“…yes, sir.”

Clover sighed. A Grimm attack could probably be arranged. His anxiety alone could draw a whole horde of sabyrs.

* * *

James was prepared for another round of pampering and reassurances, once Clover got back from his breakfast. What he was _not_ expecting was for Clover to stalk in, plop down in the armchair, and fix him with a frustrated look.

“I need a boyfriend.”

James blinked. “Is there…did I do something wrong?”

Clover put his head in his hands, groaning. “A _fake_ boyfriend! He knows I’m seeing someone! Or at least he thinks he knows, but I don’t think he knows it’s you and…ugh, it’s a long story. He wants to have dinner next week, so now I need to find someone to feed the beast.”

James hesitated. This was a touchy subject, and he didn’t want to overstep. It wasn’t like _he_ had all that much experience navigating parental boundaries as an adult. And his relationship with his parents had been good, when they were alive. But he also hated seeing Clover like this.

“Have you considered…well. You don’t _have_ to say yes, Clover.”

Clover rolled his eyes. “This is non-negotiable.”

“You’ve tried just telling him you’re not seeing anyone?”

“Of course I tried!” Clover snapped. “He saw right through it.”

“Okay,” James said. Well, that was the wrong move. Maybe a different approach. “Then let’s think about this. Why would he not see through whatever fake relationship you might bring him?”

Clover held his hand out, fingers pinched together. “Crumbs, James. You have to give him crumbs. He _expects_ me to say I’m single. No, I give him a sacrificial lamb he can rip apart before he rips me apart, and then he’ll have gotten it out of his system and then I can say my fake boyfriend and I fake broke up and that’ll be a marginal improvement over the fake dishonor I have brought onto his house and then maybe he’ll get off my back about this and I can go back to secretly dating my real boyfriend. Which is you.”

James just stared, trying to follow the logical progression.

Clover glared at him. “Shut up. Are you gonna help me find a fake boyfriend or not?”

James sighed. “Clover I just think…would it really be the worst thing in the world, if we told your father about us?”

He understood Clover’s fears about his professional reputation. But this was his _father_ , not the Council. The man was an asshole, but he wasn’t about to spread gossip about his son. It wasn’t how he operated.

Clover stared at him for a moment, then stood, throwing up his hands. “Fine, I’ll ask Elm and Vine. They’ll help me. They’re gonna have a fucking field day.”

He stalked out of the office, leaving James standing there alone. He had absolutely no idea what had just happened other than that he’d messed it up.

* * *

Clover was half right. Elm and Vine were loving this. They just weren’t being very helpful.

“I would gladly act as your paramour,” Vine offered.

“Vine,” Clover said, a hand to his temple. “He’s seen you and Elm together. Carnally.”

“Yeah he has,” Elm said, with a smirk. “It was worth it. I highly recommend the West Hangar; the views are incredible.”

“I’ll pass, thanks.”

Clover had higher standards for sex on base these days. James’s office had a _much_ nicer view. Not that he could tell them that. Also he was mad at James.

“I preferred the East Hangar, actually.” Vine said, a look of consideration on his face.

On reflection, maybe it wasn’t surprising that his father thought he and his team were a bunch of clowns. Work hard, play hard and all. It’s just that the work was often top secret, and the play was...not.

“What about Marrow?” Elm asked. “He’d do it in a flash. Your old man might even like him; he’s scrappy.”

“Not my– “

Clover cut himself off before he could say _‘Not my sweet good boy.’_ He was very protective of Marrow, is all. The rookie was like his little brother. He hated the thought of his father digging into him. Also, the prospect of dating him was…yucky.

“He’s a little young,” Clover said, grimacing.

“You’re a little young for Branwen,” Elm countered.

“I am not dating Qrow!” he protested. “Besides, Qrow’s only 42. That’s not that weird, right? It’s different when you’re in your thirties.”

He maybe had a vested interest in their opinion. James was 45. Not that he looked it; the man was in peak physical condition. Gods, the things he could do to Clover in bed were just–wait. Remember. He was _mad at James_.

Maybe they could have make-up sex, later.

“Tell us again how you’re not dating,” Vine remarked. Clover wiped the dreamy look off his face.

“I hate you both.”

Elm shook her head. “Boss, there’s two options as I see it. You can either suck it up, tell the truth, and introduce your actual boyfriend, or we can train the pup. Either one will be hilarious, for the record.”

“Or you could simply tell the Colonel no,” Vine said.

“I don’t know why everyone thinks it’s so easy to just go against his orders,” he grumbled. First James, now Vine. Honestly, it was like they hadn’t ever met the man.

“Then it’s decided!” Elm said, slapping the table. “We have two contenders for your, ahem, _‘fake’_ boyfriend.” She gave him a wink. “I say we hold auditions.”

“You know,” Clover said, “I was really just asking your opinions, you guys don’t actually have to get involved.”

“Too late!” Elm said. She laughed, clapping him on the back with enough force to make him cough. “I guess we could make it three if we asked the General. Can you imagine the Colonel’s face, if he thought his sworn enemy was screwing his son? I’d pay good money to see that.”

Clover turned red. “Absolutely not.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clover no


	5. The Care and Feeding of Your Captain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Ace Ops do some training. James gets good at dodging. Qrow is a cool guy. Clover is very upset.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise I am still working on Neverending Summer, but The Dad Arc ate my brain. Funny to think that there was once a time when I thought this would be a single chapter! 
> 
> Bit o' angst in this one. But, like...we all know it's gonna work out. This ain't that kind of story.

This was absolute torture, and Clover was in hell.

“Son. It’s about time you showed up. You’re two minutes late. Well, aren’t you going to introduce me?”

Clover grimaced. “Right. Sir, this is my…boyfriend. Marrow…?”

Marrow stuck his hand out. “Good to meet you, sir. I mean, uh, buzz off, mother—uh. Do you want me to say it now?”

He winced. This already wasn’t going well.

“Honestly, Clover, where you do you find these bozos? Do you just go trawling through the Academy picking up the biggest idiots you can find? You know, in my day, we had a little thing called _respect_ , and we—“

Clover put his hands over his ears. “ _Ugh_ , quit it, you’re stressing me out!”

Elm laughed, massaging his shoulders. His muscles were so tense, her touch felt like someone was stabbing him in the neck.

“I think it was a wonderful impression!” she said, as Clover squirmed away. “You really captured the stick up his ass.”

“A little too well!” Clover said, glaring. “Vine, could you tone it down?”

The taller man shrugged nonchalantly, the stern expression gone from his face. It was completely unsettling. He’d never heard Vine be so _mean_ before.

“I am devoted to my craft. I could no more tone down the air that I breathe,” Vine said. He gave a little bow, as Elm clapped and whistled.

“Gross,” Marrow said, crossing his arms. “I don’t want to know the kind of roleplay you guys do.”

A full-body shudder worked through him. “Vine. Elm. You don’t…?”

Elm waved him off. “Don’t worry. Hasn’t come up.”

Clover sighed in relief.

“Yet,” Elm said, winking. “He’s good at improvisation though, huh?”

“No,” Clover said. As if he wasn’t sweating. “We don’t need to practice anymore, do we? We can just, y’know…” he waved his hand. “Play it by ear. Right?”

“Are you kidding?” Elm said. “Marrow can’t even say motherfucker!”

“You don’t need to,” Clover insisted, addressing the young faunus. “I already told him that was a prank. We’re sticking to that story.”

Look, they could only stretch the truth so far.

“I can do it!” Marrow protested. “Wait, uh…buzz off, motherfu—oh, hey Hare!”

Harriet paused, on her way through the Ace Operatives’ lounge. She took in the scene: Clover and Marrow huddled nervously on the sofa while Vine towered over them. Elm sitting backwards in one of the chairs, observing and offering ‘helpful’ pointers. They looked like some kind of amateur community theater group.

“Do I want to know what you guys are doing?” she said skeptically, cracking open her protein shake and taking a swig.

There was a chorus of ‘ _no’s_ and ‘ _probably not’s_ from the rest of them. Harriet narrowed her eyes. “All right, I’m in. What’s up?”

Great, might as well have the whole team get a hand on this ball.

“We’re coaching Marrow on how to be Clover’s fake boyfriend, so he can meet the Colonel.” Elm said.

Harriet tilted her head. “ _Marrow_ is your pick?”

“Yeah, so?” Marrow said, puffing up his chest. “I’m a great actor.”

At the same time, Clover moaned, “He’s the only option.”

“Well, you won’t let us coach your actual boyfriend,” Elm said.

“I am _not dating Qrow!_ ” he said, exasperated. How many times did they have to go over this?

“Then let us bring him in as the fake,” Vine countered. “Surely he’d be better than Marrow.”

Clover opened his mouth, willing an explanation to come to his mind.

Here was the thing. Asking Qrow would involve spending a lot of time with Qrow and thinking about Qrow in a romantic capacity. Which, ever since The Thing That They Weren’t Talking About, made him feel weird. The more he thought about Qrow, the more he realized just how much he really _liked_ being around him. And not in a way that made him feel happy and excited, the way he used to. More in a way that made him feel guilty and selfish and like he was both betraying James and taking advantage of Qrow.

So Qrow could not be his fake boyfriend. Because Clover was avoiding him.

It was terrible. And the loneliness and the sadness he felt at that just made everything so much worse. On top of the stress from his father and his little argument with James, he needed a friend more than ever. He couldn’t help but feel he’d ruined something.

“Qrow’s busy. Besides, Marrow’s doing…fine.”

Harriet looked from Marrow to Clover. “I could do it ten times better. Just tell him you’re bisexual.”

There was a brief pause, and then Elm and Vine burst into laughter. Even Marrow was smirking a bit. “Oh gods, Hare, that’s hilarious,” Elm gasped. “You with a man. Clover with a _woman_ …hahaha…”

“This is one competition you can’t win,” Vine said.

“Oh, she could try,” Elm said. “But I think she’d come up a few inches short.”

She held her hands apart to show how much. After a bit of consideration, she widened her estimation.

Harriet rolled her eyes. “Professional.”

Clover put his head in his hands. Professionalism had walked out the door when he’d offered to bake anything Marrow wanted for a year if he pretended to be Clover’s boyfriend. Or maybe when he’d opened his dumb mouth to Elm and Vine. Or, honestly, it was well over a year ago, when he’d decided that the best way to handle his distraught, paranoid but very sexy boss was to get him laid, and by the Brothers Clover was exactly the right man for the job.

Oh, Gods. His father was right. His whole life was a joke, it just wasn’t funny at all.

* * *

Jimmy offered him a croissant.

“What’s this about?” Qrow said, frowning. He took the slightly crumpled paper bag from James, peering inside. It had been a busy couple days since their last little meeting, but this was the first time Jim had ever brought him _snacks._

James lead him over to the sitting area. “Please, have a seat. We have a lot to talk about.”

Qrow hesitated. The image of Clover on his— _Jimmy’s—_ scroll flashed back to him, unbidden. “Did you and Cloves…?”

He made a borderline crude gesture. James put a hand to his temple, sighing deeply and pointing with his other hand. “The armchair is fine.”

Qrow sat, taking the croissant out of the bag and examining it. It was a little cold, having long-since lost its warm, fresh-baked flakiness. He supposed it was more of a breakfast food, for people who liked having sweets for breakfast. And it was well into the afternoon. But it was perfectly edible. There was a nice bitter chocolate running through the center. It seemed like good quality.

“This is nice,” he said between bites, trying not to get too many crumbs on Jimmy’s as-yet unspoiled armchair. He only partially succeeded.

James let out a distracted hum, sitting down on the sofa. “Yes, it’s Clover’s favorite. Have Elm and Vine tried to…recruit you into anything?”

He frowned. Why the fuck was Jimmy asking about Elm and Vine?

“No,” he said. “Why?”

James blinked. “They haven’t? But you’re clearly the best choice.”

He frowned. “For what?”

James sighed, sounding monumentally depressed. “To be Clover’s boyfriend.”

Something in his brain short-circuited. “To be… _what_ now?”

“This fake boyfriend scheme,” James said, frowning. “You really didn’t know?”

“Obviously not,” Qrow said, holding his hands out.

James sighed again. “You’re aware of the…increased contact between Clover and his father?”

He’d had a hunch that would be the focus of this meeting. Gods, what a shit show. In addition to the existing bundle of information he was intentionally or unintentionally collecting on Clover, he could now add, ‘ _how to tell when Clover is faking being happy._ ’ The Colonel or whatever his name was could fuck right off.

Qrow scowled. “I’ve never even met the guy and I already hate him.”

“The feeling doesn’t improve upon acquaintance,” James said, a dark look crossing his face. “Which is why I need you on the inside. Colonel Ebi has either surmised or assumed that Clover is seeing someone. He has… _requested_ to meet this person at dinner on Sunday. Clover is very distressed.”

Oh. Whoops. This was probably his fault.

“Why doesn’t he just tell his dad to fuck off?” Qrow asked. Hell, _he’d_ already done it. Though he suspected he knew the answer.

“I don’t think they have that kind of relationship,” James said, pained. “Trust me, I’ve already made that suggestion. Not in so many words, of course.”

“Sure,” Qrow said, taking the last bite of the croissant. He crumpled up the bag into a ball, looking around as he wiped his hand on his pants. Huh. Jim didn’t even have a trash can in here.

Wait a minute. Croissants were fancy.

“Did you buy this for Clover?” he asked. “Am I eating your boyfriend’s leftovers?”

There was a pause, and then James just _broke._ “Qrow, you have to help me, I don’t know what to do. He’s so upset. He won’t eat, he won’t…” James hesitated, a faint blush high on his cheeks. “…well, do anything else. I’m worried sick. I’ve tried to help, but he won’t even _talk_ to me. It’s not that I don’t support him, I just don’t know why he’s so opposed to telling his father about us. And now he won’t even tell me what they’re planning. Which is why I _need_ you to figure out whatever hare-brained scheme that Elm and Vine are pulling and make sure it doesn’t blow up. Without telling Clover I sent you. You’re the only person I can trust with this.”

Qrow’s sat, silent, as he processed all of that. “So…that _was_ Clover’s croissant.”

“I tried to give it to him this morning and he threw it at my head.”

“Ah,” Qrow said, considering the crumpled bag in his hand. It probably wasn’t the only thing James tried to give him.

“Clover is very upset,” James repeated. He seemed stuck on that.

This was utter bullshit. Qrow could pretend like he didn’t care, but he obviously did. He scrubbed a hand over his face, groaning. And Jimmy was so fucking awkward about everything.

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll look into it. But this is edging very close to spying territory, which we agreed I would not do.”

“Of course,” James said, letting out a breath. “I don’t expect you to. Just…check on him. He trusts you. Honestly, I’m surprised you haven’t already been approached.”

Qrow rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well, I’m not exactly the type of guy you want to introduce to your folks.”

“I don’t think that’s true at all,” James said, leaning over and laying a hand on his knee. “If my parents were still alive, I would have gladly introduced you.”

Qrow ducked his head, embarrassed. Jim had been hanging around Clover too long. This compliment thing was getting out of hand. Things were so much simpler when James just thought of him as an irresponsible, annoying drunk who he constantly butted heads with. Back before they started thinking of themselves as _friends._

Because what was simpler than pretending to be your friend’s secret boyfriend’s boyfriend, who you had secret feelings for?

Gods, he missed drinking.

* * *

Qrow didn’t have to look too hard for Clover, because not long after he stepped out of James’s office he got a text from Elm.

_EE:_

_Bramwen! I need your help with something_

He sighed deeply.

**_QB:_ **

**_it’s Branwen_ **

**_or just Qrow_ **

_EE:_

_oops sorry!_

_anyway we’re doing some training and we could use your expertise_

Qrow shrugged, heading for the training rooms as he went to type a reply.

**_QB:_ **

**_sure_ **

**_what room?_ **

Maybe he could get this handled quick, so he could get back to his very busy day of trying not to think about Clover. Clover’s eyes. Clover’s laugh. Clover with his cheeks flushed and his uniform half undone as he—

He ran into a wall.

_EE:_

_have you been to the Ace Ops lounge?_

_oh right, you have_

_you play cards with our esteemed boss all the time, don’t you? ;)_

**_QB:_ **

**_what kind of training are you doing in the lounge???_ **

_EE:_

_we’re teaching Marrow an advanced technique that only you can help with_

_let’s just say I think you’ll be interested_

He frowned at his scroll as he rubbed his aching head. Brothers, give him strength.

Elm opened the door of the Ops lounge at his knock, pulling him in with a friendly yet unbreakable arm around his shoulders. She guided him over to the sofa, where Clover was sitting with his head in his hands. Next to him was an eager yet fidgety Marrow. Vine and Harriet were standing, Vine with his arms crossed over his chest while Harriet paced behind them. He’d been in here plenty with Clover, but since his last visit someone had altered the sign next to the bulletin board. Instead of _‘DAYS SINCE LAST INCIDENT,’_ it now read _‘DAYS SINCE LAST SEX HAIR.’_ There was a fat ‘3’ scrawled underneath.

“Can we stop now?” Clover moaned, not noticing their entrance. He sounded miserable.

“Again,” Harriet said, spinning on her heel and stalking back in the other direction. “You can’t even make it through one round without cracking. Even Marrow is keeping it together better than you.”

“It’s a weirdly good impression, I can’t help it!”

“Look who’s here to help!” Elm said, cheerfully.

Everyone turned to look at him.

“Qrow,” Clover said, blinking. “What are you doing here?”

Clover looked even worse than he had that morning, during their mission. In addition to the bags under his eyes, he was wound up tighter than a drum. There was a little crease of worry between his brows, and he seemed utterly bewildered to see Qrow.

“I had to call in an expert,” Elm said. “Why don’t we take a break from the roleplay for a bit?”

“Oh, thank the Brothers,” Clover said, sighing and slumping back into the sofa. Then he frowned. “Wait, what? An expert in what?”

“An expert,” Elm repeated. “So you can practice kissing!”

Qrow choked on air. Clover narrowed his eyes.

“Excuse me?”

“You have to make the relationship believable,” Elm said. “You two have your story down, but there’s none of the _nuance_. Relationships are physical.”

She grinned at Qrow, giving his shoulders a bone-crushing squeeze.

Harriet put her hand to her chin. “Hmm, she’s got a point. Marrow, you need to sit closer. Make contact. You two look like you’re brothers, not boyfriends.”

“We’re _not_ boyfriends,” Clover ground out. “And even if we were, I wouldn’t be doing PDA in front of my _father_.”

“Yeah, and I don’t need lessons on how to _kiss_ ,” Marrow squawked, indignant. “I’ve kissed a _lot_ of people, and I’m _very_ good at it. Everyone says so.”

There was a brief silence.

“Anyway you don’t have to, Marrow. I would never ask you to do that,” Clover said, putting his hands out in reassurance.

Marrow shook his head, scooching closer. “No, I can do it! I won’t let you down, boss.”

“You’re not. It just won’t be necessary.”

“Qrow, maybe you should demonstrate for the pup?” Elm said, shoving him forward. “I bet he could use a few pointers from someone as skilled as yourself.”

“I don’t need a demonstration!” Marrow protested. He blushed bright red, then purposely placed his hand on Clover’s thigh. “Should we…should we call each other pet names? I could call you baby?”

“Please don’t,” Clover said, delicately removing the offending hand. He looked a little green. “We stick to the plan. No pet names, no touching. Qrow, sorry you got dragged over here just for this.”

Qrow hadn’t said a damn word so far, and it didn’t look like he’d get to anytime soon.

“A physical expression of love is a beautiful thing,” Vine said, tilting his head. “I’ve never known you to be so prudish.”

“Unless, of course, you’re worried about making someone jealous,” Elm said.

He and Clover exchanged glances.

“Of course not,” Clover said, nervously. “If I had a real boyfriend I would just bring him. That would be crazy, otherwise, right?”

Marrow tilted his head. “Yeah, Elm, I’m not sure I understand the question.”

Harriet snapped her fingers. “Got it! I’m a _genius_. You guys, _Qrow_ should be the boyfriend. He’s more your type anyway, right boss?”

“ _Fake_ boyfriend,” Clover snapped.

He thought he saw Elm make some sort of hand gesture out of the corner of his eye, but by the time he turned around she had stopped. Marrow sputtered, apparently insulted.

Qrow put a hand to his temple. “Cloves, can I talk to you alone for a sec?”

Clover’s team was exhausting. And Qrow was speaking as someone with eight adopted kids.

“Um,” Clover said. He glanced at Elm and Vine, then rolled his eyes and stood. “Fuck it, sure. We’re done here.”

They went outside, taking a few turns around the courtyard. The movement and open air seemed to relax Clover a bit. Qrow felt guilty for even bringing it up, when he finally spoke.

“So, uh…that whole thing.”

Clover winced. “Sorry. They mean well. I hope Elm didn’t pull you out of anything important.”

Qrow shook his head. “No, trust me, I didn’t have anything going on.”

 _‘Just fantasizing about you and feeling sorry for myself,’_ he thought. Gods, he had a problem.

“Actually, I’m kind of glad,” he continued. “You seem…on edge, lately.”

Clover sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets. The motion was more like something Qrow would do, and it looked out of place in Clover’s usual confident posture. “Yeah, sorry, I didn’t want to worry you. And, um…this kind of falls in the category of not talking. About the Thing.”

His cheeks flushed. “Oh.”

“I…” Clover started. “Maybe…we could just…I mean just for a minute? And then go right back to not. I just…I could really use a friend right now.”

Qrow paused, then nodded. It was worth the risk.

Clover let out a breath, his spine loosening up incrementally. “Good, that’s…thanks, Qrow, this whole thing has just been so stressful, and I feel like I can’t think straight. My father’s just…actually, you know, I swear I really _am_ dumber when I’m talking to him.”

Qrow looked around, to make sure they were out of earshot, then spoke.

“Cloves…what exactly would happen, if you told your dad you were dating Jimmy?”

At first, he thought Clover was about to tell _him_ to fuck off. There was a flash of anger in those teal eyes, followed by hurt. But then the look softened, as he studied Qrow.

“I…” Clover started. He sighed, shaking his head. “When people think you’re on top, they’ll say anything they want about you. It’s almost like they stop thinking about you as a person with feelings. And I…I get it. My family. My semblance. I get why people would say…all _that_ , about me. People think I’m ahead of where I should be, from luck and family connections.

“It’s different with my father. Nothing’s ever good enough for him. Every generation of Ebi has climbed the ranks faster than the previous one, except for me. Captain of the Ace Ops isn’t _enough_. The Ace Ops didn’t even _exist_ until me and Elm; my father doesn’t understand it at all. It needs to be traditional command and I need to be on track to be _General,_ or I’m letting down my whole family. Everyone who came before me. Everything they sacrificed. And the thing that’s holding me back is that I’m coasting on my luck.”

Clover looked down at his feet. “Everything people would say about me and James, I hear in his voice. How my luck only took me so far until I had to earn it on my knees. And gods, the fact that it’s _James_ is just a slap in the face to him. But Qrow, if I’m dragging behind _now_. And then I didn’t even earn _that._ I mean, how can I say that I’ve really earned _any_ of—“

“ _Stop_ , Gods,” Qrow said. He couldn’t take any more of this. “Brothers, Cloves, are you even hearing yourself?”

How could _Clover_ possibly think he hadn’t earned his way? He clocked more hours than anyone, save James himself. Qrow was suddenly confronted with the mirror version of his own semblance, and instead of the paradise he expected it was just as miserable.

Clover set his jaw, looking away. “I’m sorry I’m not at happy as I look. I get it, poor baby, right? You were probably expecting something more substantial.”

“ _Clover.”_ Qrow reached out, but Clover jerked away.

“It’s fine. I shouldn’t have said anything. We can go back to not talking about stuff now.”

Shit, this was going sideways. He scrubbed a hand through his hair, frustrated. “That’s not what I—look, I get it Cloves. You don’t want to tell him. But you don’t honestly think this stupid plan is gonna work?”

The flash of anger and hurt was back, for real this time. “Oh, so now _you_ think I’m stupid too?” Clover said. His teal eyes shone with betrayal.

“That’s not what I said,” he growled. “Look, you said yourself that you can’t think straight when it comes to your old man. Why can’t you just tell him to back off?”

Clover groaned, his hands at his temples. “ _Ugh_ , you sound just like _James_ right now! You’re supposed to be my _friend_ , and I thought you might get it but you obviously _don’t._ Now if you’ll _excuse_ me, I have to go bake cookies for my son so he’ll pretend to be my boyfriend.”

And with that, Clover stormed off.

Fuck.

* * *

James was meeting with Winter when Qrow burst into the office. He looked up, surprised.

“Qrow,” Winter said, icily. “Do you mind? We’re in the middle of something.”

“This’ll be quick,” Qrow said.

He took a steadying breath. “Right. Winter, if you’ll excuse us for just a moment.”

“Sir, he just— “ Winter cut herself off, sighing. “Yes, sir. I’ll be right outside.”

When they were alone, he turned to Qrow.

“Qrow, did you— “

“Way ahead of you, Jimmy.” Qrow said, agitated, as he paced in front of the desk. “This fake boyfriend thing? It’s fucking stupid.”

He sunk into his chair. Finally, some sense. “ _Gods_ , I’m so glad you agree. Normally, Clover’s a very skilled tactician. But when it comes to his father…”

“He’s not thinking clearly,” Qrow finished. “His team is trying to get _Marrow_ to pretend to be his boyfriend.”

“Marrow?” James said, blinking. He honestly couldn’t think of a worse candidate. Marrow was a superstar in open combat, but undercover? He would dissolve like a wet tissue under the scrutiny, and then Colonel Ebi would gleefully rip him to shreds. The Colonel had retired the year Marrow joined the Ace Ops, but the rest of the team had plenty of experience with him. They should know better. “Elm and Vine really picked Marrow?”

Qrow rolled his eyes. “Jim, I don’t know what the fuck those two are trying to pull. Oh, and Harriet’s in on it now too. She suggested me, for the record.”

At least he could write this off as a team-building exercise.

“Good,” he said. He’d always liked Bree. She had initiative. “So you’re in?”

Qrow hesitated, a guilty look creeping onto his face. “Er…Jimmy. Here’s the thing about Cloves. He’s uh…he’s running a little hot right now.”

He processed that for a minute. “Clover’s not speaking to you either, is he?”

Qrow winced, plunking his scroll down on the table. “Nope,” he said.

James examined the string of messages.

**_QB:_ **

**_Cloves?_ **

**_idk what I said but I’m really sorry_ **

**_I just want to help_ **

**_you want me to be your fake boyfriend? Instead of marrow?_ **

**_this is my fault anyway, I should do it_ **

**_Cloves please say something_ **

_CE:_

_Don’t patronize me, Qrow_

**_QB:_ **

**_I’m not_ **

**_I really want to help_ **

_CE:_

_DON’T TALK TO ME I’M BAKING_

James frowned. “I…apologize, Qrow. Clover…Clover is just very upset.”

“You keep saying that.”

It kept being true. James didn’t know what to do. He just…he’d never _felt_ like this about anyone before, and it was making him _crazy_. James was accustomed to solving political and military problems. It if was Grimm on the street, if it was a stubborn member of the Council, if it was students needing extra support after witnessing the fall of Beacon, he could handle it. Even with problems he’d never faced before, like Ozpin’s disappearance, he felt confident that he could come up with a plan of action.

Clover flew in the face of all of that. He felt like he’d…for lack of a better term, _lucked_ into holding Clover’s affection. One day it was just there. But just as he didn’t know what he’d done to catch Clover’s eye, he didn’t know what he could do to keep it. Clover’s own fears and anxieties were neatly partitioned—a few gifted easily, and with dramatic flair, as sacrifice, while the rest were held close to his chest. Each solution to Clover’s emotional distress was just a stab in the dark, some combination of what had worked in the past and whatever random idea James could come up with at the time.

This was code red. Sex was not working and food was not working, and now apparently Qrow was not working.

“How are things on your end?” Qrow asked.

James opened his top desk drawer and deposited a white paper bag. It was significantly more crumpled than the one from yesterday. Qrow peered inside. This one had hit the window.

“He’s got a very good arm,” he said. “I don’t suppose you want— “

“I’ll pass,” Qrow said, putting the bag down. He groaned, rubbing his stubble. “I guess keep trying. I’m working on another solution.”

Brothers, bless Qrow. He took a deep breath, willing his heartrate to slow. “I thought you said you weren’t willing to spy?”

Qrow snorted. “For you. But oh, I’m invested in this now, Jim. Now I’m spying for _me._ Let me have a crack at the kid, I’ll see what I can do.”

James stood, sticking out his hand. They shook on it.

They were men of action, he and Qrow. When the old ways, the ‘wait and see’ methods Ozpin had championed, fell behind, there was nothing left to do but to take matters into your own hands. This was no different.

Qrow turned to go, made it halfway to the door, then turned around and grabbed the paper bag. “Don’t read into this,” he said, as he stalked out. “I slept through breakfast, is all.”

* * *

Qrow snagged Marrow two days later, coming back from an Amity run, cornering him in the East Hangar.

“Qrow!” Marrow squeaked, as his tail twitched in surprise. He cleared his throat, then responded in a significantly deeper voice. “Uh…what can I do for you?”

“I need to talk to you about Clover,” he growled.

“S-sure, uh…what about Clover?”

“Look,” Qrow said. “By all accounts, Clover’s dad is about to eat you alive. Neither of us want that. Let me do this for you.”

Marrow blinked. “You want to be Clover’s boyfriend?”

“ _Fake_ boyfriend.”

Marrow held his hands up. “Sure, right. Look, I’m sorry but Clover asked _me_ to do this. I’m loyal to my boss.”

He puffed out his chest, all false bravado. Qrow drew himself up, calling on all his years of superior experience and ability. “Kid, I can take you out and make it look like an accident. Now we can do this the easy way, or we can do it the hard way. But either way, you are gonna drop out of this little scheme and let the adults take over.”

It was maybe a bit overkill, but to Marrow’s credit he didn’t _immediately_ give in. His tail swished nervously as Qrow stared him down. Finally, with a peep, he crumpled.

“Fine,” he said, crossing his arms and pouting. “But I want something from you, too.”

Qrow scowled. Was this kid trying to play him? “Oh really?”

Marrow polished his nails on his coat, casually admiring them. “I…uh, I should let you know. Elm and Vine were _really_ interested in your reaction. But I could…fail to mention it, if you made it worth my while.”

“What do you want.” Qrow said, flat. This was amateur hour.

“You have to make me look cool in front of the other Ace Ops!” Marrow said. “Elm and Vine and Harriet never take me seriously. If you could just…maybe act like I was a cool guy that you wanted to hang out with? In front of them? Ooh, maybe if you came up with one of those cool nicknames for me? Like you have for Clover?”

Qrow rolled his eyes. “Okay, Bulldog, exactly what do you think I can—“

“That’s perfect!” Marrow said, his tail wagging. “And then just, like…make it clear that I’m very cool, and you want to hang out with me, and that you think I’m a cool fighter.”

Qrow wondered if the rookie had any idea of the concept of sarcasm. Still, better to not look a gift horse in the mouth, and all. Or a gift dog. This was a small price to pay to keep Wingus and Dingus from having any more ammo.

“Right,” he said. “Sure. Just…stop saying ‘cool.’”

Marrow nodded. “Got it. I guess cool guys don’t need to _say_ they’re cool. Man, I’m already learning so much!”

It took absolutely all of his restraint not to comment on that.

“Glad to help. So let’s talk about this plan you have with Clover. This is what you’re gonna do…”

* * *

By Sunday, Clover was actually feeling a bit better. Much like how when people were drowning, they probably felt a bit better when they realized there was nothing left to do but accept the sweet embrace of death. It was strangely calm, down here in the depths. Anyway, he ate half his lunch and got five whole hours of sleep, so that was a win.

James called again, when he was about to leave to pick up Marrow.

“Sir,” he said, answering the call.

_“Clover, I…how are you doing?”_

He scowled. “Is this work-related?”

A pause.

_“…yes. Did you…did your mission go okay?”_

“Yes. Did you have a question about the report?”

He let it hang there, daring James to keep going. There was silence.

_“…no, but Clover please don’t— “_

Clover hung up.

The scroll rang again, immediately. He huffed in frustration, about to decline it, but it wasn’t James calling. It was Marrow.

“Marrow? I’m about to head over to your place,” he said.

There was a coughing on the line. _“Hey boss, I’m really sorry but I can’t make it. I’m sick.”_

“What?” he said, panicked. “You can’t be sick. I need you to pull this off. How sick is sick?”

He had seemed fine earlier. But now he was moaning in apparent misery. Clover felt a protective swell at the pathetic sounds Marrow was making. Gods, he hoped it wasn’t food poisoning from something _he’d_ made. Sure, he’d been a little distracted when he was baking, but he definitely would have noticed a bad egg.

 _“It’s really bad,”_ Marrow said. _“I’m so sorry for letting you down.”_

“It’s okay, Marrow, just…just take care of yourself. I’ll figure something out.”

 _“Maybe you could…”_ There was more coughing and moaning. _“…you could ask Qrow?”_

Clover paused. He put a hand to his forehead. Gods, he was an idiot. “Qrow, huh. Did Elm and Vine— ”

_“Sorry boss I have to go I have diarrhea!”_

The line went dead.

He couldn’t believe it. His own team had sold him out.

Clover paced his living room, trying not to lose his composure. Okay, think. Options. What were the options? He could…maybe he could postpone? He groaned. Gods, that just meant it was going to be ten times worse when it finally happened. Not to mention his father was going to absolutely lay into him when he called to cancel at the last second. He could almost hear the rant in his head. _‘Exactly how cheap do you think my time is, Clover? When you make a commitment, people expect you to stick to it. You can’t just charm your way out of taking any responsibility. Do you think your grandfather got to where he was by—‘_

There was a knock at the door.

Clover startled, practically jumping out of his shoes. Nerves shot, he walked over on autopilot and opened the door.

Qrow was casually leaning in the hall, dressed in tight black jeans and a deep red v-neck t-shirt, a black leather jacket slung over his shoulders. His bangs were loosely brushed back, making his crimson eyes stand out even more. Clover was momentarily distracted by how ridiculously handsome the man was, and then his brain caught up with him and he saw red.

“ _You_ ,” he said, advancing on Qrow and pointing a finger at his chest. “What did you do to Marrow? Did Elm and Vine put you up to this? Do you have _any_ idea how deep you have just _screwed_ me?”

“Calm down, I’m not trying to screw you!” Qrow shouted, batting his finger away.

There was a snicker from around the corner. Clover peered around Qrow down the hall, but they were hidden from view. The little shits. He scowled, yanked Qrow inside, and shut the door.

Qrow put his hands up in defense. “Look, I just want to help.”

Clover glared. “I’m still mad at you.”

“That’s fine,” Qrow said. “You can be mad.”

His resolve was crumbling. Gods, he was already exhausted. He couldn’t do this for another week. “That’s what you’re wearing?”

Qrow looked down. “Does it look bad?”

“No, but it looks like you’re trying to get in my pants.”

Qrow rolled his eyes. “I would think your boyfriend would want that, yes.”

Clover flushed.

“Did you bring a gift?”

Qrow held up a narrow gift bag, pulling out a bottle of high-end scotch. Clover balked, snatching it away. “Qrow you didn’t have to—I know you’re—you know I would never want to make you— “

“Relax, Lucky Charm, I survived the temptation. Is this okay?”

“It’s fine. He’s gonna say it’s too fancy, but what can you do.”

Actually, now that he thought about it, this was the kind of scotch that James liked. Gods, it was really expensive. “I’ll, uh…I’ll pay you back.”

Qrow waved him off. “Don’t worry about it. You ready or what?”

Clover groaned, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “Yes. No. I don’t know. Fuck, I just messed up my hair, didn’t I? I need my pin.”

“Relax,” Qrow said. “Just…unclench. Let me help you.”

Qrow reached up, efficiently brushing the strands back into place, just like he had back on the day that The Thing happened. It felt inexplicably different this time, more intimate, and Clover felt his face heat up. The scratch of Qrow’s fingers sent little tingles all through his head, like fireworks that started under his scalp before cascading down over his shoulders. He closed his eyes, letting out a deep breath.

“There, it’s…” Qrow mumbled, withdrawing his hand with a final caress.

“Am I okay?” he asked. It came out a little softer than expected.

“Yeah, you’re…you’re perfect.”

Clover opened his eyes. Qrow was no longer looking up, at his hair. His eyes were cast lower, somewhere in the vicinity of Clover’s mouth. They were standing so close. It would be so easy to lean in and—

Qrow cleared his throat, stepping away. “Uh, anyway, your hair’s good. Now. It’s good now.”

“Thanks,” Clover said, smoothing an imaginary wrinkle in his shirt to hide his blush. “Uh, yours looks good too. Like that.”

“Blake did it,” Qrow said. “I’m really usually not great with stuff like that. She and Yang helped with the outfit too.”

“Well, it suits you,” Clover said, then mentally kicked himself. Damn it, Qrow kept deflecting compliments so he kept having to throw more out. He checked his scroll so he would have something to do with his hands, then balked at the time.

“Shit! We have to leave now or we’re gonna be late.”

He frantically darted around the apartment, grabbing his jacket and, at the last second, retrieving his mother’s pin from the bedside table and shoving it in his pocket. It’s not like he was planning to use his semblance; with his focus right now it would probably shoot wild and give his father a heart attack or something. He just needed the emotional support.

After one last pat-down, he grabbed Qrow’s hand without thinking about it, dragging him out the door and down the hall. As they turned the corner he ran right into Elm, bouncing off her solid frame and stumbling backwards into Qrow. Qrow caught his shoulder, neatly steadying him with his other hand, while Elm gave them a shit-eating grin.

“That was quick,” she said. “Little stress relief before you meet the parents, huh?”

Behind her, Vine made a note on his scroll. “I’ll update the sign. This was quite the streak, boss.”

Clover glared. “Oh, get a hobby you two.”

“This one’s good,” Elm said, giving him a thumbs up.

“Out of my way,” he said, pushing past her. She graciously did not body-check him as he dragged Qrow to the elevators. “I hate you and I’m giving you all your least favorite assignments.”

“Worth it!” she called, as they disappeared down the hall. “Good luck, Qrow! Though it seems like you already got lucky!”

Great. This was going great. And they hadn’t even left the base.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...aaaand we're off! Get ready for Asshole Dad! 
> 
> In Clover's defense, he's sleep deprived and sexually frustrated and probably not eating great. Vine's impression is _very good_. And in Elm and Vine's defense, they think they're in a completely different romcom.


	6. Guess Who's Coming To Dinner?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clover gets nostalgic. Qrow learns about interior design.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, The Dad Arc. You were supposed to be one chapter. Then you were three. Now you are four, and you comprise the bulk of the emotional setup for our eventual fallout. The good news being that because I split this chapter and the next one up (because they were pushing 13k words... O.o ), I largely have the next bit in the hopper.

Clover kept fidgeting with his pin, on the train ride.

He rubbed it with his thumb, clasped and unclasped the catch, and flipped it over the backs of his fingers, noting the way it caught the light. Finally Qrow grabbed his hand, stilling him.

“Would you quit? You’re driving me crazy.”

Clover glared. “I’m not doing anything! Unless you find shiny objects distracting.”

Qrow coughed. “Look, just calm down. We’re on time, right?”

They were. A train had pulled up just as they got to the station. Which, seriously, Clover was not _trying_ to use his semblance. It had just worked out nicely.

“Yeah, I’m just…sorry. I’m just nervous.”

“Okay, so prep me. What should I expect from your dad?”

Clover sighed. “He’s just gonna grill you about your life. And talk you into corners so you sound like an idiot. And maybe he’ll imply that you’re not good enough for me, but don’t worry because that’s not a reflection on you. It’s a reflection on _me_ for wasting _my_ time because _oh yes_ , he’ll also be grilling _me_ and criticizing everything I do or say.”

“Sounds fun,” Qrow said, eyebrows raised.

“You volunteered _yourself_ for this!”

“Relax, Lucky Charm. I can take it,” Qrow said. With a huff, Clover went back to idly rubbing his pin, his anxiety eating at him so that sitting still became impossible.

Qrow indicated the pin. “You use that for your semblance, right? How’s that work?”

He blinked. Qrow didn’t usually want to talk about semblances.

“Uh…yeah. I make a wish. Not really specifically, it’s just kind of a…focused good feeling? Sometimes it doesn’t always work out the way I think it will. Actually, the broader the better. Be careful what you wish for, and all.”

He tapped the pin, thoughtful. “My mother had the same semblance. She taught me how to focus it. Otherwise, I don’t think we would have figured out I had it so early. It’s not like good luck means that bad things never happen. Just like I’m sure _your_ semblance doesn’t mean you haven’t had good things happen. Your nieces, for one.”

Qrow laughed, bitterly. “Maybe it looks like that, Lucky Charm, but I can assure you it’s not the case.”

Clover quirked an eyebrow. He didn’t want to pry, but he was intensely curious.

Qrow sighed. “I suppose it’s only fair, since I’m about to get all up in _your_ family situation. Raven, Yang’s mom…my twin sister. She just… _left_ , when Yang was a baby. She went back to the tribe. We haven’t, uh…we don’t get along, anymore. A lot of stuff happened.”

He waited, silent. Qrow looked so haunted, it was all he could do not to reach out and comfort him. After a while Qrow continued.

“And Summer, Ruby’s mom…she was my best friend. We were actually combat partners, back at Beacon. And yeah, for a while she was the best thing that ever happened to me. But in the end, misfortune took her too. One day she went out on a mission. Even Tai didn’t know what it was. And she just…never came back.”

Clover tilted his head at the other man, considering how to proceed. In his experience, saying ‘sorry’ for the death of a loved one only served to highlight the senselessness of the event. How could he be sorry for something he had no hand in, where he didn’t even know the person who’d been lost? It sounded so fake. No, what people meant by ‘sorry’ was that they wished you hadn’t been through the pain. That they could help make it better. And looking at Qrow, Clover wished that. He really did.

“That sounds really difficult to deal with,” Clover said. “I’m sure anyone would struggle.”

Qrow shrugged.

“What’s amazing to me,” Clover continued, “Is that the two young women who came out of those tragedies are two of the smartest, most capable, and most compassionate Huntresses I’ve ever encountered. I can’t help but think you had a hand in that, Qrow.”

Qrow looked down, avoiding his gaze. A light blush rose on his cheeks. Gods, that was…it was kind of, sort of, really actually incredibly _cute._ He wondered what else he could do, to get Qrow to make that face again.

Oh.

Oh, no.

The weirdness. The lingering _Thing._ He was attracted to Qrow. He had feelings for Qrow. He _like-liked_ Qrow. Who was pretending to be his boyfriend _as a favor_ , because no one could know about his actual, sweet, perfect, caring boyfriend who he’d treated like garbage all week. And they were about to have _dinner with his father._ He felt instant regret at the way he’d acted, to Qrow and James both.

Qrow coughed, pulling him out of his growing dread. “They’re, uh…they’re pretty great. Uh, you were talking about your semblance, though? The pin? Your Ma sounds, uh…really nice. A lot better than your Dad, anyway. What should I expect from her?”

“Oh,” Clover said, grimacing. No matter how many years went by, it still felt like he was confessing something every time he said this. He’d tried jokes, he’d tried softening the blow. But Qrow had just relayed his own grief; he didn’t seem like he needed either of those things. Maybe Clover could just…be honest.

“Well, this pin _was_ hers,” he said, with a small smile. “And she was great. But she died, when I was fifteen. Mission gone wrong. So, uh…just the Colonel, tonight. He never remarried. Um, this next stop is us.”

Qrow studied him. “Oh. I…Cloves…”

Clover waved him off. “It’ll be twenty years this fall. Of course, I miss her, but I’ve had some time to adjust. A bit more than you, it sounds like. You don’t need to be sad for me, Qrow.”

Especially now that Qrow had just poured his heart out. Gods, and here Clover was in a weeklong panic about his father when at least the man was still alive. He was such an idiot. Qrow must think he was so spoiled and childish and—

“You’re a real hypocrite, you know.”

Clover blinked. “What?” That was one he hadn’t thought of, yet. It didn’t even crack the Top 50 of Colonel Criticism’s Greatest Hits.

Qrow narrowed his eyes, giving him a cutting look. “ _You’re_ the one who’s deflecting. I see how it is, now. You can dish it out but you can’t take it.”

“Take what?” he said, genuinely confused.

Qrow stared at him for a moment, then huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. “Let’s start with your own advice, then we’ll go from there.”

The train stopped. Qrow nudged Clover with his elbow, then stood and exited the train. Clover sat there for a moment, trying to put it together. And also, maybe, kind of watching Qrow’s graceful form as he walked away. At the last second, he jogged out the doors and went to catch up with Qrow.

Take _what_ , though?

* * *

The neighborhood hadn’t changed that much.

“So this is where you grew up?” Qrow asked, looking around.

“Yup,” he said. “There’s actually a lot of military families in this area.”

Which is to say, it wasn’t the Schnee manor but it was still Atlas. It was a good middle ground, he thought. There were no skyscrapers and penthouse suites like in the city center, nor were there palatial estates with luxuriously sprawling gardens. But neither were the townhouses so packed in and cramped like in Mantle. The boulevards were wide and tree-lined, dotted with cafés and little shops full of trinkets. It still cost an arm and a leg, but it was doable on a mid-career military salary or a mildly successful business, if you were a frugal sort of person otherwise. He felt himself relaxing a bit, walking through the familiar streets.

“Not bad,” Qrow said, apparently in agreement. “I’ve never been to this part of town before. I always thought neighborhoods in Atlas were pretty stiff. But this is…it feels like people live here.”

He chuckled. “Well, thanks. Though if you asked Winter she’d probably say it was sketchy.”

Qrow snorted. “Ice Queen never leaves the Academy anyway.”

Clover looked around. “Let’s see, quick primer for if _you_ ever get out here, under better circumstances.”

He pointed at a coffee shop. “That place makes great pastries, and they let you sit there as long as you want. Same with that used bookstore. They’ve got a ton of genre fiction. They also have a hairless cat. I’m not sure if that’s a plus or minus for you; it’s a very creepy cat. I’m not even sure it’s the same one from when I was a kid, to be honest, there’s just always one there and it feels like petting your grandma. Oh, and that hardware store actually has a ton of equipment if you need to repair your weapon. I know Pietro’s got all the bells and whistles, but you seem like a DIY kind of type. If you tell the owner Clover sent you, you’ll probably get a discount.”

They turned onto his old street, Qrow patiently taking in his narration. “Now, you’ll want to avoid most places on this block because the Colonel lives here, but that deli across the street has the most amazing…”

He trailed off.

“I can’t believe it,” he said, taking in the flower shop that stood where his absolute favorite place in the neighborhood had once been. “It’s gone.”

Qrow frowned, as Clover peered through the window. It was closed now, of course. But through the glass he could see orchids and roses sitting where coolers full of meats and cheeses and bottled drinks had once been. The old deli counter had been repurposed to display corsages and jewelry. And the little table in the window where he did his homework every day while snacking on apple juice and the occasional day-old cookie now held an extravagant seasonal display of blooms.

“Cloves?” Qrow asked. “You okay?”

“This is fucking bullshit,” Clover muttered, all the anxiety of the last week sweeping back in. He marched through the alley, to the back-apartment door, and rang the bell.

“Uh…what’s the deal?” Qrow said, slowly approaching from the street. “Do you know these people?”

“No. I just need to check this one thing,” he called, over his shoulder. “You can wait there if you’re embarrassed.”

“I’m not _embarrassed_ ,” Qrow said, walking over. “Just seems kinda unlike you to ring some stranger’s doorbell out of nowhere.”

“They can’t just buy out the best deli in Atlas and put in some over-manicured flower shop,” Clover countered, pounding on the door when it still hadn’t opened. “You don’t understand, Qrow. That place had heart. It had _soul_. It’s not fair that it should get replaced with some…some…some _vanity_ project by some bored rich—“

“Young man? Can I help you?”

They whirled around. A petite woman stood behind them, having come in from the alley. She was in her late forties, maybe early fifties, with platinum blond hair styled into sharp bangs and a high ponytail. She was wearing a tight leopard-print dress with a black belt, over black leggings and heels. She had quite a lot of jewelry on.

Clover paused. He hadn’t heard the phrase ‘ _new money_ ’ until he’d started at the Academy, but this was exactly how he would have described it.

“Um,” he said. “Is, uh…is this your shop?”

She nodded. “Yes hon, but we’re closed right now. You can come back tomorrow, if you like.”

Her good-hearted smile told Clover that while she thought he was a bit thick, she didn’t seem to mind.

“I…” he shook his head, snapping out of it. “Sorry, I was just wondering if you knew what happened to the previous owners. It’s just that I used to live across the street, and—“

“Oh!” She exclaimed. She had one of those voices that was simultaneously high-pitched and scratchy. “You’re Johnny’s boy!”

Clover’s mouth fell open. “Excuse me?”

“Clover, right?”

Clover nodded, dumbly. _Johnny?_

She squealed in delight, clacking over to them in her heels. “Oh, I’ve heard so much about you! I’m Trixie, by the way. Gosh, Clover. What a trip. And that must make _you_ the boyfriend,” she said to Qrow, with a sly look.

“Uh…” Qrow said. “Yeah. I’m Qrow.”

“Ooh, he’s cute,” Trixie said to him, reaching out and feeling his bicep. “Kind of a bad boy, huh. And you, such a tall drink of water. Gosh, you Ebi men sure are handsome. Like father like son, I guess.”

A little bile rose in Clover’s throat as Trixie giggled.

“I’m sorry,” he said, a hand at his temple. “What exactly is your connection with my father?”

“Oh! Well, the Mazzetti’s retired last year, and none of their kids wanted to keep up the business. So they put the building up for sale, and ta-da!” She struck a pose, one hand on her hip and the other turned palm up. “Oh, your father was so sweet, when I was starting out. I had a little problem with hanging some shelves, and he knew _just_ what to do. He’s the best neighbor a girl could ask for.”

“Neighbor,” Clover said. Gods, he was being actually rude now, but this kept getting weirder. He could only process about half of what she was saying, and that half wasn’t sitting well.

“Oh!” Trixie said, giggling. “Neighbors, yes. And very good _friends._ Ooh! You better get over there, Johnny’s so punctual. Come on by later, boys, and I’ll fix you some dessert and a cocktail. Go on, shoo!”

She ushered them out of the alley and he looked to Qrow, utterly bewildered. But then there was no time to process it, because a check of his scroll revealed that they _were_ , in fact, two minutes late. He cursed the gods and Vine, dragging Qrow over to his father’s front stoop.

“Enjoy the dinner, boys! I hope you like it!” Trixie called, before disappearing into the alley.

“You said your old man never…?” Qrow asked, as Clover punched the doorbell.

“I’m going to repress it for now,” he said, pressing the wrinkles from his shirt and straightening his spine. “And I suggest you do the same. It’s game time.”

Clover took a brief moment to remind himself that he wasn’t a teenager, that he couldn’t get grounded, and that if worse came to worse he could definitely take the old man in a fight. Probably.

“Cloves, you can’t just…”

The door swung open, and there stood the Colonel.

* * *

Clover’s dad didn’t look anything like him.

Qrow wasn’t sure why he was surprised, since Clover didn’t seem like had had much in common with the Colonel personality-wise, either. But something about the fabled long line of Ebis in the military had him expecting an older version of Clover.

This was not the man that greeted them. Though ‘greeted’ was a generous term. The man was stern and silver-haired, his eyes a cold grayish-blue and his square jaw set in a frown. He was a few inches shorter than Clover, and yet he had a presence that towered over his son, making it clear who was in charge. He’d never seen Clover so instantly cowed by anyone like that.

Qrow hated him immediately.

“Sir, this is Qrow Branwen,” Clover said, oblivious to the hatred brewing in Qrow’s heart. “Qrow, this is my father, Colonel John Ebi.”

“This is your boyfriend.” the Colonel said, unimpressed. Qrow hadn’t even said anything, and he’d already been found wanting. All right, fuck this guy too.

Clover nodded, fidgeting a bit. “Yes, sir.”

Qrow just stood there for a bit, waiting for either of them to say something.

“Qrow’s really been looking forward to meeting you,” Clover said. “Hasn’t he.”

He glanced at Clover, who was giving him a significant look and wiggling his fingers at his side.

Oh, right.

He stuck his hand out. “Good to meet you, uh. Sir.” The title left a bad taste in his mouth. He pledged not to use it again.

The Colonel crossed his arms, assessing Qrow with a critical eye. “Aren’t you a little _old_ for my Clover?”

Qrow narrowed his eyes. “Age ain’t nothing but a number. Isn’t that right, Johnny?”

The Colonel frowned even deeper. “What did you call me, son?”

“Just a little nickname,” Qrow said, innocently. “It’s kinda my thing, right Lucky Charm? Though if you’re gonna call me son, I guess I might as well call you Pops.”

“Haha, yeah,” Clover said, throwing him a frantic glare. “Qrow…Qrow does have a lot of nicknames for people. But only people he _likes_ , right?”

“Absolutely, babe,” Qrow said, indicating his extended hand. “What do you say, Pops? You gonna leave a guy hanging?”

The Colonel finally took his hand, attempting a power-shake. The guy obviously didn’t know who he was up against. Qrow didn’t even need to give it half his best effort before the man’s eyes tightened imperceptibly in discomfort. Maybe next time he’d take a guy who wore _rings_ a little more seriously.

“Come on in,” Clover’s dad said grudgingly, as Qrow finally released him.

He felt Clover sigh in relief, next to him. It was game time, all right. And _Johnny_ had just handed him a whole play.

The house was nice. It was older but well-kept, and there were newer touches sprinkled in. Some of the style was a little overly masculine for his tastes, but what did Qrow know, anyway. He tried to imagine Clover as a child, playing in the formal living room. It was a bit of a stretch.

Apparently, Clover thought so too. “Did you…get new furniture?” he asked, face scrunched up in confusion.

“It was a damp winter,” his dad said, stiffly. “Some of the pieces had mold.”

Qrow was taking a turn of the room, examining everything. “Nice place, Pops. Oh right, this is for you.”

He handed over the gift bag with Jimmy’s good scotch. The Colonel pulled out the bottle, examining it. “It’s a bit much for a Sunday dinner. A good 10-year would have been fine.”

“Couldn’t agree more,” Qrow said. “Sometimes you want something a little younger, right?”

There was an awkward silence. The Colonel’s eyebrow twitched. “Right. I suppose I should thank you.”

He supposed, but he didn’t.

“I’m…gonna give Qrow the tour,” Clover said, grabbing his hand.

“Not much to tour,” the Colonel said. “It’s a house, not a museum. I don’t know what you’re used to, Qrow, but we Ebis are simple folks.”

‘Simple’ was not how he would describe Clover. The two of them had first bonded over a four-hour discussion on the finer points of weapon design. But that was the tip of the iceberg. He’d _been_ to Clover’s place. It was chock-full of collections, keepsakes, books, and art, and everything had a specific and meaningful place. Clover knew what all the attachments on his vacuum did. Clover named all his plants. Clover’s kitchen had a whole drawer full of cookie cutters, about twelve different knives, and both an ‘everyday’ and a ‘fancy’ mortar and pestle, and he still complained about not having the right tool for X, Y or Z.

The apple fell far.

“Well, I’m easy to impress,” Qrow said, looking around appreciatively. “When I was a kid we were lucky if our tent didn’t leak.”

“Son, do you mean to tell me you lived in a gods-damned tent growing up?”

“Qrow’s family camped a lot!” Clover blurted. “Ha, that’s a…isn’t that funny?”

“Am I laughing?” the Colonel asked.

He was not. Gods, the stick was really up there, wasn’t it?

“More like we _had_ to camp,” Qrow said, by way of explanation. “We were nomadic. Lived like that till I started at Beacon.”

It was a generous way of putting it, but Qrow could split the difference, here. He didn’t have to flex on Clover’s dad that he was a trained thief and killer.

That revelation clearly threw the Colonel off. He coughed, gesturing around him. “Yes. Well, this is this living room. It’s mostly for sitting. I suppose you’re used to a campfire of some sort.” He pointed to the fireplace. “This piece of garbage Clover made me get runs on dust, but I don’t think it compares to a good old-fashioned wood stove.”

“Sir, he knows what a living room is,” Clover said, with a sigh. “And for the record the dust-powered fireplace burns much cleaner than wood.”

The Colonel looked like he wasn’t quite buying it on either count, but he gestured for them to continue through the house. “Right. Clover, why don’t _you_ continue your little tour then? Dinner’s almost ready.”

“Yes, sir.”

Qrow suppressed his scowl. He just really hated hearing Clover sound all stiff and formal like that. Even when he was taking orders from Jimmy, he didn’t sound so deferential.

Clover led him through the house, pointing out the few heirlooms from the illustrious Ebi line. Clover’s dad was right about one thing. The place _wasn’t_ much of a tour. It was basically what you’d expect from a newly-retired military bachelor in his sixties; clean, rather spare, fairly brown. The man himself was stern, and the only signs of life were old photos of other stern, presumably dead relatives.

As Clover led him upstairs, though, he actually paused, lingering over the photographs. These were newer, more personal. Clover pointed each out, in turn. His aunt and uncle, his cousins and their kids. Military portraits and school pictures were interspersed with casual family photos, though the informal shots all seemed to stop somewhere in Clover’s teenage years. Must’ve been the work of his mom. Of particular interest was a candid photo of a small, green-eyed boy on the beach. He was grinning madly, with missing front teeth and a mop of curly chestnut hair, and wrapped in the arms of what he could only describe as a _female Clover_ as the waves threatened to take them in.

“…and, um, this is my mom.” Clover said, as if he was introducing the actual woman.

Qrow gave a little bow, like a proper fake boyfriend. “Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Ebi.”

“Captain Ebi,” Clover corrected. “Well, Amaranth. Actually, she’d probably make you call her Ma. She wasn’t that serious.”

“Fuck, those are some strong genes,” he said. “You look exactly like her. Though…when were you gonna tell me you had curly hair as a kid? And…are those _freckles?_ ”

Clover blushed, faintly. “Only when my hair is longer! And, uh. We spent summers in Argus. The sun does weird things to me.”

“I think it’s cute,” he said, trying to memorize the photo. “You should grow it out like that again.”

When he looked back over at Clover, the other man was intently studying the carpet. The blush had grown to a blazing scarlet. Qrow thought about that blush, but with sun-kissed cheeks and unruly red-gold curls, and almost died right on the spot. Or…oh, gods. Clover, flushed and needy, panting against white sheets, his hair an absolute mess as Qrow…

Why. Why did his brain have to betray him like that? Well…obviously it wasn’t his brain. It was his dick. His other brain. Get it together, Branwen.

Qrow coughed. “Uh, is that your team?” he said, pointing to a different picture.

He recognized a young Clover, at what must have been his Atlas graduation. Clover was second to the left. On the far left was a bronze-skinned woman with dark hair streaked with violet, who only came up to Clover’s armpit. On the far right was a taller, silver-haired woman, who seemed more serious. And second from right, tucked up close to Clover, was a nearly identical silver-haired man, with a low ponytail and a lazy grin on his face.

Clover smiled wistfully. Going from left to right, he pointed out his teammates.

“That’s Yolanda Anoixis. Me, obviously. Then Nico and Neve Montagu-Martin, obviously twins. They were quite different, though. Team CYNN,” he said, pronouncing it ‘Cyan.’ “I would have called us ‘Team Cayenne,’ because we were spicy,” he said with a wink. He chuckled, shaking his head. “And, uh…some people called us ‘Team Sin,’ because…reasons.”

“Got up to no good, huh?”

“Some of us. Okay, all of us.”

“You still keep in contact?”

Clover’s smile fell. “Not really. Yola and I get coffee sometimes. She and Neve actually got married a few years back. I heard it was really nice.”

“You…didn’t go?”

Clover shrugged, eyes casting over the old photo. “Um, Nico and I didn’t have the greatest…”

Oh.

“You two dated. And I’m guessing he got the team in the breakup.”

“After getting me banned from every casino in Mantle,” Clover said, smiling bitterly. Qrow had to give it to him, the unspoken statement would have flown by almost anyone else: ‘ _He used me for my luck, and then he left me.’_

“It’s okay. Teams in Atlas are just for school, anyway. It’s not like your nieces. Come on, I’ll show you my old room.”

Great. Yet another casual admission that Clover had deep, unaddressed emotional pain that made Qrow want to burn the world down. This was fine. He glared at the young silver-haired man in the picture. Fuck that guy, too. Qrow made a rude gesture at the photo, as he followed Clover up the stairs.

* * *

Belatedly, it occurred to Clover that he was not actually dating Qrow.

This was all a setup to get his father off of his back, and thus Qrow probably didn’t care about things like seeing family photos and checking out Clover’s old room. And yet, here he was in the miserable space, waiting for a reaction as if it meant something.

Clover never took guys home. The obvious reason was that his father was…well, his father. Which is to say, as James had once done, that he was an unbearable prick.

But Clover also didn’t often date guys that he _wanted_ to take home. He had so little free time that most relationships flew in and out, never quite catching. And he was okay with that, until he and James started…whatever it was they’d started. So he fooled around with guys who called him ‘babe’ because they couldn’t remember his name. He dated guys who remembered _Clover_ but seemed to think it was preceded by the word _sorry—_ _sorry, Clover, I can’t stay the night_ ; _sorry, Clover, I meant to call but I fell asleep._ And then he fell in love with guys who treated him well but thought he was exclusively for fun, but not serious relationship material in any way, shape or form. The ones that hurt the most, when he inevitably started caring too much and lost the ability to keep a lid on himself.

Gods, being back home had made him maudlin.

“It’s, uh, not very personal.”

He shrugged, watching Qrow look around. It was true; the only personal effects left were in boxes in the closet, which his father periodically nagged him to take. Otherwise it was a generic room. His old bed, desk, and dresser were still there. But mostly it had become a storage room for whatever didn’t fit in the rest of the house. It might make a nice space for guests, if the Colonel ever had any. But he didn’t, so now it was a nice space for a treadmill. 

“I think I already took everything I really cared about,” he said, moving to the window. “Here, come look. This is the best part.”

He directed Qrow over to the little padded bench by the window. Qrow sat, leaning against the glass, his legs tucked into his chest. It was smaller than he remembered; as a child he could lay fully on the seat, feet not even touching the other side. But now there was barely room for him to scooch in across from Qrow. He looked out at the street below. There were a few people out for early evening walks, the occasional jogger, and some kids who really ought to head home for dinner. He pointedly did not look at that stupid flower shop.

“You spent a lot of time here, huh?” Qrow said, gaze similarly drawn to the street.

“Yeah,” he said. “Probably when I should have been studying. Isn’t it fascinating, though, watching everyone from up here?”

His fingers traced the little four-leaf clover he’d once scratched into the window frame. It was a miracle, or maybe good fortune, that his father had never seen it.

“A bird’s-eye view,” Qrow murmured.

Clover laughed. “Not quite that nice, but pretty close. You know…” he grinned. “You’re the first date who’s been in here.”

Qrow snorted, shooting him a look of disbelief. “Seriously? You never snuck a guy up here to fool around?”

“Oh gods, I would _never_ ,” he said, horrified. “My father would have _killed_ me. After killing the guy. You’d never _find_ the body. One time he caught this kid from school throwing pebbles at my window. I guess he had a crush on me, and he thought it would be romantic. He was standing right…” Clover pointed to a spot in the street, just below the window. “…there. He was so focused on looking for me, he didn’t even see the Colonel coming home. My father _dragged_ him in, absolutely ripped him a new one, then threatened to have him arrested for vandalism.”

“Fuck,” Qrow said, laughing. “Did he at least get a date out of it?”

“I think he decided I was too much trouble,” Clover said, shaking his head. “Joke’s on him, I totally would have put out.”

“Oh, yeah? What am I gonna get, after this whole thing?”

He put a finger to his chin, playing at a thoughtful look. “Well, I believe I asked _Marrow_ , so you’ll have to settle for a mediocre dinner and the satisfaction of a job well done. Though if you play your cards right, I suppose I could be convinced to bake something.”

“Hmph,” Qrow said, crossing his arms. “Your idea of a good reward has slipped a bit, Lucky Charm.”

“Don’t say that ‘till you’ve had my cookies,” Clover quipped. “More than one person has described them as better than sex.”

“Depends on the sex.”

“True,” he conceded. “But they were talking about sex with other people. Sex with me is obviously superior. Think about it, Qrow. If that’s what people say about my baking, just imagine what they say about my ass.”

Qrow rolled his eyes. “I’m glad your ego is undeterred by this experience.”

Clover threw the other man a wink and stood, stretching. He caught the way Qrow’s eyes flickered to the flash of skin at his waist. “Speaking of which, we better go face the music. I hope you like canned soup casseroles and dry pork chops.”

He felt a little lighter, as they made their way back downstairs. More natural. Like he and Qrow were back to their old banter. Whatever it was had bolstered him for the challenge ahead.

“Cloves, you know I’m not picky,” Qrow said, as they descended the stairs. “It actually smells kind of good.”

He stopped in his tracks, causing Qrow to nearly crash into him and send them both tumbling down.

“What the hell, Cloves?”

“It _does_ smell good, doesn’t it?”

“Uh,” Qrow said.

Clover took the remaining stairs two at a time, bounding into the kitchen. His father was removing a roasting pan from the oven, but instead of the variations on white and brown he was expecting, the pan was a splash of color. His father shot him a frown.

“Son, you’re a grown man. Don’t run in the house.”

“Did you cook _fish?_ ” he asked, flabbergasted.

His _grandfather_ was the fisherman, but it the taste had skipped a generation. Clover, obviously, loved both catching and eating it. And his cousins grew up in Argus, where it was practically a religion. But his father and his uncle were strict carnivores. The only fish he’d ever seen his father eat was on a tuna melt.

His father cleared his throat. That weird look was back. “It’s a salmon. It’s healthy. Don’t act so surprised, Clover, it’s just food.”

“I just didn’t know you liked salmon,” he said, peering into the pan. His father did the same, before checking his scroll. He had the same look on his face as he did when they’d gone on that road trip through Mistral when he was thirteen and they took a wrong turn.

“If you, um,” he offered. “If you poke it with a knife, you can tell if it’s done.”

Silence. Now the Colonel looked like he did when his mother suggested they ask for directions.

“The recipe said ten minutes. It’s been ten.”

“Yes, sir,” Clover said, patiently. “But the recipe is just a guideline, so sometimes you have to—”

His father threw up his hands, stepping back. “All right, you tell me if you’re the expert.”

Clover fished a knife from the drawer before any further objections could be voiced. He made a tiny slit in the center of the salmon filet, wiggling the knife a bit so he could get a good look.

“Probably two more minutes,” he said. He didn’t figure his father would enjoy overly rare fish. He grabbed the potholders and opened the oven, slipping the roasting pan back in.

_Now_ , his father looked like he did after the hour-long argument that had resulted from his mother’s suggestion. When it became apparent that they had in fact taken a wrong turn.

“I suppose you’re right,” the Colonel said. “Qrow, why don’t you help me set the table? You’re familiar with a table, right? It’s where we eat.”

“Why don’t you show me,” Qrow deadpanned, leaning in the doorway.

“Well, come with me then,” his father said, the sarcasm wasted. “Clover, I trust you can take care of this?”

“Yes, sir.”

As soon as his father left the room he turned to Qrow, giddy. “ _Did you see that?”_ he gushed, in a stage whisper. “He actually listened to me. He trusts me. I’m right! _I’m_ the expert!”

Qrow gently bumped his shoulder, as he walked past Clover to the dining room. “You really showed him, Lucky Charm.”

Whatever, Qrow couldn’t take this from him. Clover hadn’t felt this vindicated since he made Captain. He crossed his arms, surveying the battlefield. Henceforth, this drab kitchen would be a historic place. Look out, world, here comes Clover Ebi. _Professional._

“Have fun learning about the table!” he chirped.

* * *

Qrow rolled his eyes through the Colonel’s explanation of what a fork was, as he calmly set the table like a normal-ass person. He should have known the man was just waiting to get him alone before the real interrogation could start.

“Young man, can you give me one good reason why I should let you date my son?”

Qrow’s fist twitched. “How about it’s none of your fucking business who he dates?”

“Let me rephrase that,” the Colonel said, leaning over the table. “What makes you think you can sideline the three generations of hard work this family has put into crawling our way up from the gutters just so you can have a little fun by, how did you put it? Screwing my son six ways ‘till Sunday?”

His mouth fell open.

Well…he probably should have seen that coming. Qrow went out of his way to cultivate a unique look and persona. It backfired sometimes. Often. It’s just that usually he had the benefit of actually sleeping with someone before getting run out of town by an angry mob. At least now that he was sober he could remember the not having sex fairly well.

“I wasn’t born yesterday, despite what Clover seems to think with this ‘prank’ nonsense. So you tell me, if you were in such a state two weeks ago that you were all but ready to _dump_ my Clover, why the hell are you still wasting both his and my time?”

Okay, Branwen. No holding back.

“Does Clover know you’re fucking that woman across the street?”

The old bastard went red. “Exactly what do you think you’re—“

“The salmon’s done!”

Clover breezed into the dining room, apparently still riding the high of moderate praise. “I presume the dill you had out was for the fish, so I chopped some of that to put on top. You had some extra lemon, so I made a simple vinaigrette for the salad. It’s really much healthier than the bottled stuff. Do you want me to just dress the whole salad, or does everyone want to add their own?”

There was a drawn-out silence, in which Qrow and the Colonel simply stared at each other. Clover glanced between them, noticing the tension. Finally, the Colonel spoke.

“By the gods, Clover, why do you always have to make everything so complicated? It’s just a damn salad.”

Clover’s face fell, as his father stalked back into the kitchen.

“Cloves…” he started, reaching out for Clover’s hand. For a brief moment, even _Qrow_ forgot that they weren’t really dating. Such was the urge to comfort the other man. At the last second, he realized what he was doing and hesitated, fingers inches from Clover’s.

Clover jerked away, his expression shuttering. “It’s fine,” he said. “I don’t know what I expected.”

He followed his father into the kitchen, leaving Qrow alone in the dining room.

Qrow was going to destroy that man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He protec. He attac. But most importantly, he got Clover's bac.


	7. You Can't Go Home Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Colonel Ebi experiences a series of unfortunate events. Everyone else gets lucky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at this 12.6k monstrosity of a chapter. HOW. I should just realize by now that every time I say I'm going to split a chapter up into parts, what I actually mean is that I'm going to use that leeway to cram more FEELINGS in. 
> 
> *collapses*

To say the dinner was awkward was an understatement.

Clover had apparently given up on trying to keep the peace, and now seemed to just be bracing himself for whatever shit his dad was about to fling at them. It was weirdly infuriating to witness a guy who never shut up have his vocabulary reduced to three words, one of which was ‘sir.’ The only thing that drew a reaction was when John offered him a beer.

“Qrow doesn’t drink,” Clover stated, firmly. “We’ll both just take water.”

John looked at him funny. “What are you, religious?”

“No,” Qrow said. “I’m an alcoholic.”

He frowned, then turned to Clover. “So you just do whatever this guy tells you to?”

“Sir, you know I’m not a big drinker.”

That was actually true. By the time they got to Argus, Qrow was well past the days when he cared if he was the only one drinking. But it was still an old habit, to make note. At bars, at dinners, at parties: how many drinks had everyone else had, and what kind, and when. And importantly, even when he’d lost count of how many came before, exactly how long it had been since _his_ last one. It should have been a flag far sooner. One time, years ago, he’d bragged to Tai that he’d gone a whole week. It was only later that he realized Tai didn’t think about it like that.

So yeah, Qrow noticed things. He tried not to, anymore. Didn’t seem healthy. But he knew Jimmy liked scotch, that Elm liked beer, that Vine liked…well, wine. That Harriet used energy drinks as a mixer. That Marrow tried to look tough and manly but he really only liked girly drinks. And that Clover didn’t drink much at all. He’d seen him nurse a glass of wine or a beer, but after one he usually stopped drinking and started yawning. If it was just the two of them, he flatly refused.

“Cloves, I’m fine if you want to have one,” Qrow said.

Clover looked like he could use it.

Besides, beer was never his drink of choice. If it had been whiskey, he’d appreciate the support, but the piss-water Clover’s dad kept wasn’t nearly so tempting. Especially now that he was fueled by a heady dose of self-righteousness.

John plunked the can down in front of Clover, who stared at it like it was a foreign object. “Here you go, son. Your boyfriend says it’s okay, so it must be okay.”

What an asshole. Qrow silently cursed him, as he went to return the extra can to the kitchen.

“Thanks for trying, Lucky Charm.”

Clover gave him a weak smile. “I mean, a dry rosé would have gone better with salmon,” he joked. Qrow could see him fidgeting with his pin under the table.

Qrow snorted. “You want me to suggest it?”

“Nah, that’ll just—“

He clammed up again as his dad re-entered, handing Qrow a small bottle of seltzer.

“Take this. I’m not so cheap that I would serve a man tap water in my own home.”

The seltzer was some fancy bubbly shit, probably courtesy of _Johnny’s_ little friend. It was the kind of drink you kept around for someone you were sleeping with. Clover cocked his head, scrunching up his face at it in confusion. But he didn’t comment. Gods, the man was in denial.

Qrow smiled sweetly. “Thanks, Pops.”

John just grunted, taking his seat.

There were a few minutes of awkward silence as everyone ate. Or, from the look of Clover, blissful silence. He supposed that if he grew up around Colonel Shithead, he might have the same Pavlovian relief every time the man’s mouth was full, too.

“So Pops, Cloves told me you’re retired,” he said, taking it upon himself to liven things up around here. “You got any hobbies, or are you just taking the time to stop and smell the flowers?”

Clover’s dad coughed violently, pulling a fish bone from his mouth. Clover looked genuinely alarmed. “Careful, sir. Salmon can have pretty sharp bones. You…pulled them out before you cooked it, right?”

“Of course I did,” John snapped. He clearly had no idea.

“Don’t worry, my piece is fine,” Qrow said, grinning. “The salad’s good too, babe.”

“Er…thanks.”

Clover cracked open his beer and took a long pull.

“So. Hobbies?”

John glared at him. “As a matter of fact, I still consult with the military from time to time. Ebis don’t like to sit around.”

Well, _that_ was one thing Clover and his dad had in common. Though Clover looked a little panicked about the thought of his father spending any more time on base.

“Yeah, but what do you do for fun?” Qrow needled. Or rather, _who._ “Guy like you, you must have a pretty full social calendar.”

The man’s eyebrow twitched, as he went to open his beer. The tab broke off in his hand. He cursed, going into the kitchen to grab another one.

Huh.

“Cloves,” he hissed, when they were alone. “I think I did that.”

Clover just gave him a soft look of sympathy. “Qrow, not every mishap is your fault.”

He rolled his eyes, opening his mouth to explain. Before he could, John re-entered. Qrow narrowed his eyes at the man. As he went to crack the second can, the tab broke off. Again.

“What the–damn defective piece of…”

Qrow closed his eyes briefly, focusing. Yep. There it was, the little tingle in his aura that indicated his semblance was active. Except he was used to trying _not_ to use it. Inevitably, it always leaked out the edges when he wasn’t paying attention. Qrow wasn’t practiced at actively _directing_ his semblance at anyone, outside of combat. What was it that Clover said he did? A focused good feeling?

“Cloves, I really think I did that,” he said, amazed. He tapped Clover’s hand, the one that was thumbing over the pin, with his. “On purpose. Like you do.”

Clover cocked his head. “You made a wish?”

“…sort of?”

There was a hiss of a can opening violently in the other room, some splashing, then a significant amount of swearing. Qrow grinned, twisting open the cap of his seltzer.

“Huh,” he said, staring at the bottom of the cap. “I won a free soda.”

Clover groaned, shoving the pin back in his pocket.

“Great,” Clover said, before taking a swig of his drink. “Because mine is shooting wild right now. I can _feel_ it going off, Qrow, but I’m not even trying to _use_ it and it’s…”

Clover made a scattering gesture with his hand. Outside the window, vaguely in the direction his hand had been pointing, there was a whoop from a woman on the street. “ _Twenty whole lien! Just lying there!”_

“She’ll probably spend it on something dumb,” Qrow said.

Clover buried his head in his hands. “It’s like I’m a teenager again. Gods, it’s so much easier when I’m fighting Grimm. The fish bones were probably me, too; there’s _no way_ he would have thought to pick them out. I think I’m getting you lucky.”

Qrow’s mind went right to the gutter, and there it stayed.

“Uh,” Clover said, jerking up. “I mean…that came out…”

“No, by all means, continue.”

“ _Qrow,”_

Clover flushed bright red. Qrow smirked, leaning over and feeling his face with the back of his hand. As he suspected, it was like a furnace.

“You’re kind of a lightweight, huh?”

“It’s why I never drink,” Clover muttered, slumping down in his seat. “At least I’m a cheap date.”

Qrow just chuckled. Gods, he was fucking cute. And the fact that Clover also apparently had trouble controlling his semblance made him feel weirdly reassured. It seemed closely tied to his emotional state. No wonder the guy was such an optimist. 

“What have I told you about slouching, son?”

John re-entered, finally having defeated the minor annoyances Qrow had thrown at him. Clover sat up ramrod-straight.

Qrow _seethed._ The cherry tomato Clover’s dad had been cutting squirted juice onto his sleeve.

Fuck. He should probably pull it back, if he could. At this rate the man would be dead within the hour. And while he wasn’t opposed to the idea, Clover would probably feel bad about it. Qrow supposed he didn’t need to do permanent damage. He simply wanted to see the man humiliated.

“What about you, Qrow?” John said, attempting to return to his meal. “I presume you have a job of some sort. Or are you a _professional_ waste of time?”

Qrow shrugged. “Good of you to finally ask, but I happen to be a licensed Huntsman. Just like Clover.”

“Son, I spent forty-five years in the Atlas military. You expect me to believe you made the cut?”

He snorted. “Buddy, I’d rather _cut_ my own arm off than sign up for the military. No, my friends and I are from Vale. We’ve just been helping out the General for a bit. It’s how Cloves and I met, right babe?”

Clover gave him an incredulous look, mouthing _‘General?’_ Qrow nudged him with his foot. Whatever, he could be respectful to Jimmy if it meant disrespecting Clover’s asshole dad.

“Uh. Right.”

Clover took another gulp of his drink.

“Hmm,” the Colonel said, scowling. “Yes, Clover’s mentioned he had quite a few new recruits. I wasn’t aware they were…independent. Exactly what kind of a future do you expect to have, son, if this guy’s not even in the military?”

“Qrow’s an official liaison to the Atlas military, sir.” Clover mumbled, picking at his food.

“For what, Ironwood’s secret project? I’m glad to know that we’re paying a bunch of foreigners, in _this_ economy, to do James’s dirty work. And just how long will you be a _liaison_ , Qrow?”

“As long as General Ironwood needs me,” he said politely.

The Colonel huffed as he cut into his salmon, clearly searching for an easier target. “Well, Clover, I can’t say I’m surprised that you’ve signed away yet another aspect of your life to that man. He’s already holding up your career, why not do the same to your love life?”

Clover winced, staring into his plate. That one probably hit a little close.

Gods, what was this guy’s beef with Jimmy? Qrow wasn’t the biggest fan of the way James went about things, either, but Clover’s dad seemed to take it as a personal affront. This was the problem with Atlas. The stupid military structure just made everybody repress everything until it exploded on the person on the next rung down. In this case, Clover. Though he’d never seen Clover unloading on _his_ team like this.

Qrow glared. Good ol’ Johnny coughed, pulling another fish bone from his mouth.

“Oh, the General’s been very supportive,” Qrow said, leaning back. He draped an arm around the back of Clover’s chair. “I think he understands that with all the hard work we do every day, risking our lives, keeping Atlas safe from Grimm, you’ve just gotta hold on to love when you find it. After all, it’s not like the love of your life is just gonna _move in next door._ ”

“I’m not sure what you’re implying about—“

Clover’s scroll buzzed. He pulled it out, examining the screen.

“It’s, uh, the General.”

“Oh for the love of…now you can’t even have dinner with your father, without getting called in?”

“People could be _dying_ ,” Clover snapped, finally showing some spine. He pushed his chair back, standing. “I’m gonna take this upstairs.”

Good. They could finish this little conversation.

As soon as Clover left the room, the Colonel turned on him. “Listen here, you little shit. I don’t know what you think you know, but—“

“No _you_ listen to _me_ , you washed-up, leathery, pathetic old bastard. You can try to tear _me_ down all you want and you’ll fucking lose, but lay the fuck off Clover. If you could pull your head out of your ass for two seconds you’d see that your _son_ is an incredible Huntsman and an amazing human being who is doing his damn best to make you proud. Not to mention it’s hypocritical as all hell to criticize Clover for who he dates when you’re too chickenshit to tell him you’re screwing the neighbor.”

Qrow glared at John. John glared right back.

It was fucking _on._

* * *

Clover went into his old room to take the call, not bothering to turn on the light in the familiar space.

“Yes, sir?”

_“Before I say anything, no this is not work-related. So feel free to hang up on me if you want.”_

He frowned. “Nothing’s wrong? You don’t need me for anything official?”

Clover was a little disappointed, to be honest. Not that nothing was wrong, of course; quiet nights meant less Grimm. But the dinner was going so miserably that he’d been hoping for a…a _paperwork emergency_ , or something.

“… _no, I just wanted to check up on you.”_

Something in him _flipped_ , at the sound of that voice. Suddenly all he wanted was to be with James, wrapped in his arms.

“ _James,”_ he moaned, flinging himself onto the window seat. “I’m so _sorry_ , I know I was acting crazy but I couldn’t stop it, and I hurt you and I was wrong. You…you’re wonderful and sweet and you were just trying to help and I…I…I _can’t do this_ , James, I _need_ _you_.”

There was a brief silence. Clover’s heart ached. Oh gods, he was too late, and now James was going to leave him.

“…James?”

_“I’m already calling a car.”_

“James, _gods_ …” he laughed in relief, tucking his feet up onto the bench and leaning against the window like he did when he was a lovesick teen. “I need you in my _life_. You don’t have to come here right now.”

_“…but I could, if you want me to?”_

A smile took hold of his mouth, pulling at the corners of his lips without him even thinking about it. “And what exactly are you going to do when you get here? Throw me over your shoulder and we escape into the night?”

He thought about James, bursting through his father’s front door and hauling him away like the hero in a cheesy B-movie. The kind of movie that had questionable sexual morals but was still kind of hot.

_“Darling, I will have that man declared an enemy of the state and shot on sight if you ask nicely. There would be no paper trail. No one would know he even existed.”_

Clover laughed, despite being slightly horrified. “That won’t be necessary.”

_“It can be arranged.”_

Between James and Qrow, the Colonel had no idea the danger he was in. If he didn’t have to flee the Kingdom as an outlaw, he’d probably get hit by a falling piano or something. A little warmth bloomed in his chest, thinking about the people that cared about him. He reached into his pocket, pulling out his mother’s pin and polishing it with his thumb.

“…I missed you,” he said, voice soft. “Can you forgive me?”

_“I missed you, too. And of course, I forgive you. I’m sorry too, for pushing you.”_

Clover sighed. “Don’t be. I…you’re right. I’ll have to tell him eventually. I just don’t know if I can take it right now. But I…I don’t want us to be a secret forever. At least, not from everyone.”

Exactly three people knew about them. His cousin Cedar, who Clover told everything to. Cedar’s wife Val, who Cedar told everything to. And now Qrow, who figured out most things on his own. James’s approval ratings rose in chronological order but dipped with proximity to the military. Qrow couldn’t stand Atlas but was supportive; Val was a civilian from Argus and was neutral. And Cedar, aka _Major_ Ebi, was simultaneously fully loyal to General Ironwood and at the same time absolutely hated James’s guts.

The prospects were not good for Clover’s father, who already despised James on a professional level. And, he suspected, a personal one as well.

_“Take your time. I just want you to be happy.”_

“I know,” he said. He gazed out the window, the neighborhood quiet now in the glow of the streetlights. “Can I come over tonight?”

_“I wish you would. Should I get anything? Some decent food?_

“Shockingly, the food’s actually not bad,” he said. “Though I got called an idiot for making salad dressing.”

_“The one that you showed me? But it’s so easy. I make it all the time.”_

“Do you now? There’s hope for you yet.”

_“Mmm,”_ James hummed, a playful tone to his voice. _“You know, the other day I used lime juice instead of lemon. I think it turned out quite well.”_

“You absolute radical.”

Gods, he had missed this. Just the sound of James’s voice was calming him down. Something about curling up in this little nook and talking to a boy he liked made him feel impossibly warm and safe and strangely giddy. The alcohol was probably playing a role, lulling him in with a dreamy buzz. He pressed his cheek to the window, relishing the feel of the cool glass against his flushed skin.

_“How about this,”_ James said. _“I’ll get some ice cream, we can put on an old movie, and I’ll give you a nice massage.”_

“Depends,” Clover said, pushing his luck. “Can we eat the ice cream in bed?”

James chuckled, his voice warm with affection. _“Yes, I think that’s best. That way it will be as messy as possible when you fall asleep on me ten minutes into the film.”_

Clover rolled his eyes, laughing. “I’m not that bad. Besides, I like getting you to explain everything I missed.”

_“Clover, you know I’m no good at telling stories.”_

“That’s why it’s so cute,” he insisted. James just huffed in faux-frustration.

As much as he wanted to stay here flirting with James on his scroll all night, the sooner he wrapped this ridiculous dinner the sooner he could see James in person. And hopefully _not_ see his father for a good long while. He took a wistful look around the room, at the little world that used to be his.

He wasn’t a child, anymore. At the end of the day, he got to leave this place.

“Gods, I don’t want to go back down there but I probably should,” he said, sighing. “Someone’s probably bleeding.”

_“Qrow’s not giving an inch, is he?”_

“I think he was _defending_ you,” Clover said, astonished. “He called you _General_ ; it was bizarre. Maybe I’m crazy, but I think they’re both kind of enjoying...”

He frowned, trailing off. “Wait, how did you know it was Qrow?”

There was a brief pause.

_“I…just assumed. You two are so close. He’s who I would have picked, honestly.”_

Clover felt a little stab of guilt. Right. He and Qrow were close. A little too close, maybe. He felt like he was being pulled in two directions–he didn’t want to give up Qrow, and he didn’t want to give up James. They filled two completely different and yet somehow essential parts of his heart.

He scrubbed a hand through his hair. Gods, he needed to get over this stupid crush. Pursuing Qrow would only hurt James, which he hated the idea of. If there’s one thing he knew for sure, it was that James didn’t share.

Qrow was a _friend_ , a very good one, but nothing more. If he was even interested, which was doubtful. No, Clover’s brain was just trying to sabotage him from being happy with James. He vowed to be a better boyfriend going forward. And a better friend.

“…of course. Well, I can’t tell if he’s trying to shock my father or intimidate him, but it’s doing something.”

_“I can only imagine. Honestly, I just wish I could see him in action myself.”_

“I’m sure it will all be very amusing, once I stop having a heart attack,” he said, rolling his eyes. “I might call you again later, if that’s okay? It really helps talking to you.”

_“Of course, anything you need.”_

“Thanks,” he sighed, rolling his shoulders to loosen them. “Gods, James, I’m so fucking tense right now you’re gonna have to pry me open with a crowbar.”

_“How about I start with my hands, and we go from there?”_ James said, his voice dipping low.

It had been a _week._ Maybe a little longer, since they’d last made love. James had no idea the sorts of depraved things he was willing to do at this point. Maybe he should warn James to start drinking water now, because once they got in that bed Clover didn’t intend to get out until neither of them could walk straight.

“Mmm, you know what would be really nice, is if you used your—“

Clover froze, pressing his face to the window. Was that…?

_“…Clover? Is everything okay?”_

“That blond woman is coming over here,” he murmured.

It was dark in his room. The street was well-lit, like all streets in Atlas. He had a perfect view of that gods-damned deli-closing flower lady tottering over in her stupid heels, carrying…something big.

_“What blond woman?”_

“I…have to go. I’ll call you in a bit, okay?”

_“Okay. I’m here if you need me. And I can be there in fifteen minutes. And I can send a car to pick you up if you—”_

“I love you, bye!” he said, making a kissing sound into his scroll and then hanging up before James could call in the entire Atlesian air fleet.

He raced down the stairs, again taking them two at a time. But there was no risk of being chided, this time, because Qrow and his father were in an all-out verbal brawl.

“I was fighting for this Kingdom while you were still in diapers, you little punk, so don’t try to lecture me on the horrors of war.”

“Oh, the horrors of eighty years of global peace, while Atlas was building up the biggest military in the world,” Qrow said, putting his hand to the back of his head like a frightened matron. “Let me tell you about the real war, buddy. You heard about the fall of Beacon? About the attack on Haven? I was _there_ , bucko. Both times. And I’m here in Atlas trying to stop it from happening _here_.”

Qrow put a finger to the table, to illustrate the point.

“What are you, some kind of conspiracy nut?” his father said.

The doorbell rang. Neither of them noticed. Just like they hadn’t noticed Clover come in.

“I’ll get it,” he said, mildly. Which nobody noticed.

“I’m guessing the only reason Jimmy hasn’t filled you in is because your security clearance isn’t high enough,” Qrow taunted. “These are need-to-know operations, after all. And what would we need you for, old man? Paperwork?”

“You know, in my day we actually _respected_ our elders…”

Clover headed for the front door. It was all just noise, flowing over him. Maybe it was talking to James, maybe it was the half of a beer, but he actually just…didn’t really care, anymore. He wanted to go home.

He opened the door. The little florist was there, holding some kind of…covered dish.

“Sorry to bother you,” she squeaked, in that scratchy yet high voice. “You know, you mentioned that deli and I remembered that I found a bunch of old recipes in the back. So I whipped up a little tiramisu! Thought you boys might like it.”

Clover frowned. “You… _whipped up_ tiramisu?”

She giggled. “Oh, I had most everything lying around.”

A dull ache started in his head. Clover had _made_ tiramisu. It wasn’t hard, but it took time. They’d been here maybe two hours. There was no way she could have…

He pushed that thought down. Maybe she’d just taken some shortcuts. She must have. The Mazzetti’s deli certainly didn’t, but maybe this woman was just a liar.

“Trixie, was it?” he asked. There was a series of muffled shouts and a bang from the dining room, like someone had pounded the table.

She nodded, peering around him in concern. “Everything okay?”

“Peachy,” he said. “Right. Well…thanks.”

He waited for her to hand him the dish. There was an awkward silence.

“Er,” he said. It was like all his usual charm had flown out of his head, leaving a gaping void of nothingness. “Won’t you…join us?”

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly,” Trixie cooed. “I don’t want to butt in on your family time.”

Clover sighed with relief.

“It’s no trouble,” he said, automatically.

Wait. Fuck. _That_ was polite. _Now_ his instincts kicked in???

“Oh, well if you insist,” Trixie said, with a giggle. “I do kinda want to see how it turned out. I put a little twist on it. Kinda my own flair, you know?”

Clover had no choice but to step aside and let her in. He shut the front door in a daze. Well…this was happening now. He led her into the dining room, where Qrow and the Colonel were still facing off. In a way. His father looked furious. Qrow had his feet up on the table.

“…and I’ll tell you what I told Jimmy—“

“That’s _General Ironwood,_ boy.”

“Oh, so _now_ it’s General? Funny, I’m pretty sure he outranks you, and unlike me you claim to actually give a shit about that.”

Clover cleared his throat. Loud.

Both men turned to look at him. He took the tiramisu from Trixie.

“Trixie brought dessert,” he announced. “Isn’t that nice?”

They just stared at him. He turned to his father. “Sir? Is there something you want to tell me?”

His father looked supremely uncomfortable, but said nothing. Trixie gave him a little wave.

“I’ll make coffee,” he announced, retreating into the kitchen.

“Ooh, let me help you!” Trixie trilled, clacking after him in her heels.

Clover froze. “Please, no. You’re a guest.” A pause. “Qrow would you help me?”

Qrow sprung up, gathering the remainder of the dishes. His father put up no protest, despite the fact that Qrow was arguably the most important guest. Fine. Everything was fine.

“What did Jimmy want?” Qrow asked, as they entered the kitchen. “Do we need to go in?”

Clover blinked. He’d almost forgotten there was an official reason to talk to James. “Oh! No. It was a personal call. Hey…I’m sorry I freaked out at you, too. I was just feeling…a little sensitive, I guess.”

Qrow shrugged. “No problem, Cloves. You and Jim patch things up?”

He smiled. See, Qrow was such a good friend. “Yeah.”

There was an unreadable expression of Qrow’s face. Kind of a happy-sad mix. Clover had no idea what that meant, so he busied himself making coffee while Qrow scraped the dishes and loaded the dishwasher.

“You know,” he said, as he flicked the coffee pot on. “As much as I appreciate it, you don’t have to fight so hard for me. You realize I’m just gonna have to fake break up with you in a few weeks, to make him happy.”

Qrow scoffed as he dried his hands. He slung the dish towel over his shoulder, turning to look at Clover. “All right, dummy. Do _you_ realize that if I were your real boyfriend, I’d fight _ten times_ harder?”

Clover blinked. Qrow rolled his eyes, drawing in closer.

“I’m not some kid who’s gonna get scared off because he thinks you’re too much trouble. And anyone who is, isn’t worth your time.”

“Qrow,” he said. “You’ve been going toe-to-toe with my father for two hours and you’re not even actually dating me. I think that’s the _definition_ of high-maintenance. It’s perfectly understandable that not everyone would want to—“

Qrow reached out, flicking his forehead with his thumb and index finger. “Nope.”

Clover furrowed his brow. “Nope?”

“Nope,” Qrow reiterated. When Clover just stared at him, confused, he laughed. “It means you’re worth it, Lucky Charm. Now take the fucking compliment.”

…oh.

“Um, Qrow, I…well. I…” Clover laughed, shaking his head. “I guess you got me.”

“You’re not such an easy guy to get,” Qrow said, his eyes bright.

Qrow didn’t know him when he was twenty. Easy to get, but too much work to keep. There was a reason he had a reputation. But he had a hunch that if he voiced any of that, Qrow would just flick him again. He cleared his throat, grabbing a few bowls and scooping a serving of tiramisu into each.

“Can you grab some cups?” he said, indicating the correct cabinet. Qrow nodded, pulling four mugs out.

“Cream and sugar?” he asked. “Or, uh…possibly skim milk and sugar substitute. The Colonel takes it black, like his soul. It’s slim pickings for the rest of us.”

Qrow pointed to the counter. “What does he use those fancy syrups for, then?”

Clover turned to stare, like an idiot. Sure enough, there were three bottles of flavored syrup, the kind you might find at a coffee shop. Vanilla, hazelnut and…Clover nearly shuddered. Pumpkin spice.

“What the fuck?” he muttered. “Gods, this whole thing had been _so weird.”_

“Listen, Cloves…” Qrow said. “About that lady.”

Clover put his hands over his ears. “Qrow, don’t.”

Qrow said…something. He couldn’t hear. The lip motion suggested words he didn’t want to think about. Qrow rolled his eyes, yanking Clover’s hands from his ears with surprising strength.

Qrow leveled him with a look. “Come on, we can use this. We can _win_.”

“I don’t want to win, I just want to _live_ ,” he moaned.

It wasn’t fair. It had been almost two decades. And it wasn’t like his parents’ marriage had been so great, when it lasted. But Clover _wasn’t ready._ He gave the tiramisu a forlorn look. It was an obvious peace offering, but it felt more like an assault on his childhood. He tried a spoonful, directly from the pan.

Clover coughed. This _was_ an assault. It tasted like a rum distillery had set up shop directly inside a sugar refinery to cut corners on shipping. Gods, this…this was not the tiramisu he’d grown up with. The Mazzetti’s recipe hadn’t had any alcohol, he was sure of it. Mostly because they’d sold it to an _eight-year-old_.

He saw Qrow lifting his own spoon to his lips and caught his wrist at the last second.

“Qrow, you should _not_ eat this,” he warned. He snatched the spoon from Qrow’s hand.

Qrow frowned. “Cloves, like I said, I’m not picky. How bad could it be?”

“Just trust me on this one.”

Qrow shrugged, pushing the bowl away from him. Thank the Brothers. If Clover let him eat this monstrosity, he’d have to kneel before Ruby and Yang and harpoon himself with his own weapon.

Clover could ignore a lot of things, but poisoning his boyfriend—well, fake boyfriend—was not one of them. Not to mention the crimes committed against Nona Mazzetti’s tiramisu.

He met Qrow’s eyes, determined. “All right, follow my lead.”

Qrow’s face lit up.

“Yes, sir.”

Clover marched into the dining room, Qrow hot on his heels. Trixie was sitting next to his father at the dinner table, giggling at something that was probably not funny. He leaned over the table, all confidence and charm.

“So, Trixie,” her said, giving her his most blinding smile. “How long have you been dating my father?”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “O-ohh! So he _did_ tell you! Gosh, he is such a softy.”

There was absolutely nothing soft about Colonel John Ebi, in the thirty-four years Clover had known him. His eyes flicked to the man. He looked stricken.

“He didn’t,” Clover said. “But you just did.”

Trixie blinked. “…oh. Whoops?”

Great. She was stupid, to boot.

His father furrowed his brow. “Clover, what in the—“

“Cut the crap, Johnny.” Qrow said, a hand on his hip. “It’s obvious.”

“Is this why you keep calling me?” Clover demanded. “Why you want to meet my boyfriend? You what, you want to play house to impress a girl you like?”

The weird, uncomfortable look on his father’s face intensified. He cleared his throat, then reached over and took Trixie’s hand.

“Right. Son, I…well. I didn’t want to tell you like this, but yes. Trixie and I are lovers.”

Okay. That was a gross way of putting it.

Trixie nodded, smiling at his father. His father looked over at her in adoration. It was a completely foreign expression, to Clover. Could he even make that face? Wasn’t it painful?

“We’ve been seeing each other for six months,” his father continued. “And…we’re getting married.”

Clover’s head exploded.

“ _Married?_ What…how…when… _how?_ ” he sputtered.

“Clover, what have I told you about stuttering?”

“ _You just told me—_ “

He swayed, feeling lightheaded. Everything was spinning.

“Whoa, Lucky Charm,” Qrow said, catching him by the elbow. He steadied Clover, pulling out a chair for him.

“I can get you some water,” Trixie offered.

Clover reached over and grabbed his half-finished beer from earlier, chugging the rest of it in one go.

“You don’t have to be so dramatic about it,” his father said, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

Trixie pouted, rubbing his father’s back. And a little lower, to Clover’s dismay. “Honeybear, you know he’s just had quite a shock. Give him some time.”

The Colonel sighed, giving her a fond smile. “You’re right, Pookie.”

It was like a complete stranger was in his father’s house. In his body. Like a pod person.

“Honeybear? _Pookie?_ Is this…am I being recorded?! Who _are_ you?”

_Married._ It was a prank, it had to be. To get him back for the phone call. He’d never known his father to prank, sure, but he’d also never heard his father call anyone _Pookie_. This was the smaller cognitive leap. 

“This isn’t a joke, son,” his father said. He at least sounded a little guilty. “I…well. Trixie’s a hell of a woman.” He squeezed her hand. A weird, foreign, rugged smile crossed his face. “What can I say, she hooked me in.”

“After _six months?_ ”

Trixie giggled. “When it’s right, it’s right. No point in waiting at our age.”

Trixie’s age had to be a good fifteen years younger than his father. And the man was giving _Qrow_ shit. This was all…very strange. His father leaned down, placing a wet kiss on Trixie’s mouth as she made a delighted squeal. Clover immediately repressed the memory.

“Cloves? You okay?”

Qrow sat down next to him, concern oozing out of every pore. Clover gave him a completely unconvincing smile. He probably just looked deranged. He tried to convey the ‘ _are you seeing this’_ level of crisis he was having. Qrow just glared at his father. One of Trixie’s bracelets caught on his shirt collar, ripping it.

“And Clover,” Trixie said, once she’d stopped _sucking on his father’s face_ to disentangle her dumb jewelry _._ “I hope you know I would never try to replace your mother. But I’d sure like to get to know you, before the wedding. Your father speaks very highly of you.”

Bless her heart. She must have a very generous interpretation of his father’s opinions.

“Sure,” he said weakly. He could do that, once he’d had enough therapy. Maybe in a decade or so. He hoped they wanted a long engagement.

“It was Trixie who encouraged me to reach out to you,” his father said.

“I’ve got kids too,” Trixie explained. “From a couple exes, actually. We didn’t always see eye to eye, either.”

Oh, great. Now he’d have step-siblings, too. The fun didn’t stop.

“But I… _we_ thought this…well, _wedding_ would be a good opportunity,” his father said, sliding back into stiffness. “For us to be a bigger part of each other’s lives.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, holding up a hand. “Do you think I _enjoy_ getting raked over the coals every time I see you? Why would I possibly want more of that?”

His father grimaced, ever so slightly. Clover felt a little mean for just saying it like that, but he was exhausted and his head hurt.

“Clover, you know I’m just trying to push you to be better. Your potential is wasted on Ironwood. Same with this…” he gestured to Qrow. “This _imbecile_ you’re dating.”

That was the first time his father had phrased it in terms of his apparent _potential_ , but it was all too little, too late. Suddenly, he didn’t _want_ to fake break up with his fake boyfriend. 

“Qrow is one of the smartest, kindest, most trustworthy people I’ve ever known,” Clover said. “Anyone should be happy to have him as part of their family. And as for my _job,_ we do really important work in the Ace Ops. And I’m…I’m good at it. I don’t want some desk job.”

His father sighed, his tone weary. “What you don’t _want_ is to take on any responsibility where you can’t out- _luck_ your way out of trouble. It’s time to grow up, Clover. Luck will only get you so far.”

Clover flinched, staring into his lap.

Under the table, Qrow grabbed his hand in a crushing grip. He glanced up, surprised. When he met those crimson eyes, Qrow was giving him such an intense look of support that it took his breath away. That look said everything. ‘ _You are more than your semblance.’_

He took a deep breath.

“It’s not luck,” he said, barely audible. His eyes were still trained on Qrow, drawing strength from the connection.

He could practically _hear_ the frown. “Excuse me?” his father said. “I can’t hear you if you mumb—”

“I said it’s not luck.” Clover repeated, louder. He turned to his father. “It’s skill. I worked my ass off to get where I am, and I earned every bit of it. It takes more than luck to be a good leader to my team, to be a good mentor to new Huntsmen. To plan tactical operations to take on threats you don’t even know about because actually, Qrow’s right, you _don’t_ have the security clearance. And I do all those things. Every single day.”

He cleared his throat. “Sir,” he finished.

Qrow squeezed his hand. He sent the other man a grateful look. Qrow gave him a small smile, in return.

His father stared at him in shock. “What in the name of the Brothers has gotten into you?”

“Nothing,” Clover said, a strange new power running through him. “I’ve just realized that I don’t have to be here if I don’t want to. You don’t get to tell me how to do my job. And you don’t get to tell me who to date. If you want to be in my life more, fine. I’ll come to your wedding. I’m happy for you. But from now on, it’s on _my_ terms. If all you want to do is criticize me, I’m not interested.”

His father looked vaguely ashamed. Or maybe confused. Constipated? It was hard to tell. Clover was so unused to the man making facial expressions that weren’t a frown. He certainly didn’t look _happy_.

“I…suppose I can accept that,” he said, grudgingly.

Clover stood up, only a little dizzy.

“Good,” he said. “Because this is non-negotiable. Now if you’ll all excuse me, I think I need some air. I’m just gonna…”

He walked out the front door.

* * *

Clover wasn’t sure how long he sat on the front stoop, before Qrow came out. The other man sat next to him, bumping his knee against Clover’s. He handed Clover a cup of coffee.

“Hey, Lucky Charm. You doing okay?”

“No,” he said, pouting. “My dad’s getting married. To what appears to be a lovely and well-adjusted woman that I also hate.”

It wasn’t really fair of him. Trixie seemed…normal. Aggressively so. And it wasn’t her fault that his father was such an asshole. She was probably a perfectly nice person, deep down. How _that_ relationship worked was a mystery he didn’t care to solve.

But she was still kind of dumb. And a little annoying. Gods, Clover didn’t think he’d had such uncharitable thoughts about a complete stranger, maybe ever in his life.

“They, uh…” Qrow said. “They seem like they’re for real.”

“I know,” he moaned, leaning against Qrow’s shoulder. “That’s the worst part.”

He sounded like a spoiled child, but he couldn’t help it. It’s not that he hated the idea, or wanted his father to be unhappy. But it just seemed that everything he knew about the man was changing. And change was scary.

“You did good in there, Lucky Charm.”

Clover took a sip of coffee. It had a splash of milk, just a hint of sugar. Just the way he liked it.

“Thanks, Qrow. For…for everything. Thanks for standing up for me.”

Qrow shrugged. “Sorry I got kinda carried away. I just know what it’s like when people try to tear you down because of your semblance.”

He turned his head, studying the other man. There was something old and hurt in his expression. Something that made Clover’s heart ache. “You…you do, don’t you?”

Qrow just shrugged, taking a sip of his own coffee. “That’s the Branwen tribe, for you.”

“Fuck them,” he said. “Whoever treated you like that. They’re garbage, and just…fuck them.”

Qrow blinked. “Fuck your dad,” he said.

Clover barked out a laugh. “Fuck your tribe.”

“Fuck your…your…” Qrow was grinning ear to ear.

“My classmates,” Clover supplied. “Yours?”

“Yeah, fuck ‘em too.” Qrow said, gesturing in the general direction of the street. “Fuck everybody.”

Clover held his mug out, clinking it against Qrow’s in cheers. “Fuck everybody,” he agreed.

They dissolved against each other in giggles, muttering the occasional expletive at random targets. Clover felt at ease, _finally_ for the first time since his father had started calling.

“You think you’ll tell them?” Qrow eventually asked. “About you and…”

Clover sighed. “Probably. Just…not today. You’ve gotta know when to walk away from the pot, right?”

Qrow shrugged. “You would know, Mr. Banned From Every Casino in Mantle.”

“Oh, gods,” he groaned. “I have stories. First of all, fuck Nico.”

“Fuck Nico,” Qrow agreed. “Now, spill.”

It was a good story, and Qrow was a good audience. Clover was just about to get to the bit with the goat when the door opened. His father stood there, two glasses of scotch in his hand. He looked down at Qrow.

“Would you give us a minute?” he said, stiffly.

Qrow turned to him, questioning. Clover shot him a reassuring smile, patting his knee. “I’ll be okay. Go on in.”

“All right,” Qrow said, taking Clover’s empty mug and standing. “I’ll be just inside, Lucky Charm.”

The Colonel handed him a glass of scotch, which he reluctantly took, then sat down in Qrow’s vacated spot. For a while they sat in awkward silence, his father alternately looking out at the street or down at his hands, with periodic sips of his drink.

Clover was fine with silence. He took a sip, trying not to make a yucky face. He didn’t know how James drank this stuff. It tasted like a cigar dropped in kerosene. He could feel it evaporating as he swallowed, making him feel immediately lightheaded.

“That boy is all right, I suppose.”

Clover blinked. “What?”

“I still think he’s a disrespectful, irresponsible jackass,” his father clarified. “But he’s got spark. He’s not one of these soft Atlas types.”

Clover’s heart sunk. His father had called him ‘soft’ on so many occasions…he supposed it wasn’t surprising, that he liked Qrow more than his own son.

“No,” he said. “Qrow’s been through a lot. He’s stronger for it.”

The Colonel swirled his glass, staring into the amber liquid. “I still have my gun. If he ever hurts you, I’ll shoot him.”

Clover choked on his drink. His father pounded him on the back as he coughed. It might as well have been a hug.

“You know,” he finally managed, “Usually people threaten their kids’ partners directly.”

“It’s not a threat,” his father said, looking uncomfortable. “Just a fact.”

Was he…trying to be _nice?_

Clover sighed, sipping his scotch. It wasn’t getting any better, but his mouth had kind of numbed to it.

“Hockey,” his father blurted.

“…excuse me?”

“Do you still play?”

“Um,” Clover said. “Not really?”

He put on a game once in a while, but he didn’t really have the kind of free time to commit to a whole season. Plus he was still slightly traumatized from getting pummeled by his cousins growing up.

“Oh. I thought we could…well.”

Clover tilted his head, studying his father. Now that the adrenaline of the last few hours was fading, he was starting to see the man the way others might see him. Not as a towering figure who ruled Clover’s life with an iron fist. Just a man, aging and maybe a bit regretful. Smaller than he’d always thought. 

“Look…let me check my schedule,” he said, letting out a breath. “Next time there’s a game on and I’ve got a night off, you can come over and watch.”

“That…sounds acceptable.”

What a stirring endorsement. Clover rolled his eyes. He’d be waiting a couple weeks at least before cashing that one in. They were never going to be close, but maybe…twice a month. He could do that. And _Clover_ was picking the restaurant, for their next lunch.

“I’ll let you know, sir.”

His father downed the rest of his drink, and examined the empty glass. “I’m retired, now. You might as well call me ‘Dad.’”

He awkwardly clapped Clover’s shoulder, then stood and went inside. 

Clover sat there a few minutes, stunned, then finished his drink as well, shuddering at the taste. He pulled out his scroll, calling James.

_“Darling? Is everything okay?”_

“Great,” he said, weakly. “Can you call us a car? My Dad got me drunk.”

* * *

The goodbyes were significantly more awkward than the hellos.

John gave Qrow another attempt at a bone-crushing handshake, which he lost again. Trixie tried to give both of them hugs, which Qrow grudgingly accepted but which made Clover lock up in full discomfort. John just clapped his son on the shoulder, that ridiculous constipated look on his face. And then they escaped, to a luxury car that Jimmy had apparently summoned to pick them up two blocks away. Dating the most powerful man in Atlas had a lot of perks.

And Clover was…well.

Clover had consumed one light beer, a scotch, and about a bite of an apparently toxic dessert. And he was about to pass out.

Qrow felt bad, for thinking it was a bit cute. It’s _wasn’t_ , except it was Clover. So it kind of was. Clover had a way of dispelling threats, so that he felt supremely safe. He hadn’t even been _tempted_ to drink tonight, and he’d kind of _enjoyed_ using his semblance. Everything was upside-down.

Clover sighed, leaning against him and resting his head on Qrow’s shoulder. Qrow snickered, wrapping his arm around the younger man.

“You really _are_ a lightweight.”

“My body is a temple, Qrow.”

Qrow suddenly felt quite spiritual. He pressed his nose to Clover’s hair, inhaling the scent of his shampoo. Clover was a solid, warm weight against him, heating him though. His heart beat wildly in his chest. Gods, he was…he was just…

He was just completely fucked.

“Thanks for being my boyfriend,” Clover mumbled, half-asleep.

“Fake boyfriend,” he said, out of habit.

Clover’s eyes fluttered open. He looked up at Qrow, a mix of confusion and longing in his wide teal eyes. His face was so _close._ Qrow felt his cheeks flush as he met Clover’s heated gaze. He looked so soft and open that it was all he could do not to lean in and claim those perfect, lightly parted lips with his own.

He wondered if this was what Clover looked like in bed.

The moment passed. Clover straightened, scrubbing at his face. He looked supremely guilty.

“Qrow, I…I know we said we wouldn’t talk about…”

He all but shoved Clover to the other side of the car, putting as much distance between them as he could. “Then don’t,” he said, his mood suddenly foul.

“I’m not!” Clover protested, a look of hurt flashing over his face. “I just think we should talk about what we’re not talking about.”

“I think you talk too much,” he shot back.

Clover was silent for a moment, staring out the window.

“I’m…really sorry, Qrow.”

Oh, Gods, here it was. The whole big speech about how Clover was flattered, truly, but he just didn’t feel the same way and he was already with someone and maybe they could still be friends, blah blah blah. No doubt there would be some classic Clover-isms in there about how Qrow was really great and he deserved to be loved and all that. Ugh, it was unbearable. The man was nice even when he was rejecting someone.

“Nothing to be sorry for, Cloves,” he said, resigned. “I get it.”

“You do?” Clover blinked. He blushed, looking down. “I mean, of course you do. I guess I haven’t been subtle. I mean…I _really do_ love James, is the thing. I don’t want to leave him. And I would never cheat on him.”

The was the worst. “Cloves, I know. Please, you don’t have to…”

“No, I…I need to be clear,” Clover said. “I’m so sorry if I made you uncomfortable, Qrow. It just took me a while to realize how attracted to you I was.”

What?

“And you’re my friend,” Clover continued, seemingly oblivious to his confusion. “You’re probably the closest friend I’ve had in a long time, and it just feels really nice to be around you, and I don’t want to lose that. Especially after what you did for me today. But I totally understand if you don’t want to hang out anymore.”

Did Clover…did Clover not know how Qrow felt about him? At _all?_ Such that _he_ was apologizing to _Qrow_ for…for _having a crush on him?_

He sat there, in silent shock, until a little crease of worry formed between Clover’s brows.

“Qrow…? Please, say something.”

If they hadn’t had the day they had, Qrow might have just left it at that. Told Clover that yeah, maybe it was a good idea if they spent some time apart. Recused himself from the whole affair. But Brothers, the man had all the confidence in the world and yet he was sitting in front of Qrow like he was about to get told he was lower than dirt. Qrow didn’t want to be responsible for that face. Not on a lie.

“Look, Cloves…” he sighed. “You’re not…entirely off base.”

Clover blinked. “I’m not?”

He winced. He couldn’t believe he was doing this. “I mean…there is a chemistry there.”

“There’s…there _is_ , right?” Clover said. There was a little spark in his eye, an electric giddiness beginning to bubble up. Qrow felt like he could drown in it. “You’re saying you…feel it too?”

“Yeah,” he grumbled.

“Huh,” Clover said, thoughtful.

“Don’t sound so excited.”

Clover waved his hands. “No! I didn’t mean it like that. I was just thinking…I mean, we didn’t really do anything _wrong_ , right? This happens all the time.”

Maybe for Clover.

“Sure,” he said. “It’s perfectly natural. We fight together.”

“Really well, might I add. And you’re _very_ good-looking.”

Qrow ducked his head, his blush deepening. “You’re, uh…no slouch yourself.”

“And it’s not just…” Clover started, putting a hand on his shoulder. “You’re a wonderful person too, Qrow. I really do think that.”

The moment dragged on a bit, intense. Clover cleared his throat, pulling back. “Uh. As your friend.”

“Of course,” Qrow said. “And Jimmy’s my friend, too. I don’t want to hurt him.”

“I could never hurt him, either!” Clover said, painfully earnest. “I love him so much. That’s why it’s so confusing.”

Qrow sighed, ignoring the pull of sadness and guilt from that thought. “Look, we’re both adults. We can handle a little physical attraction. We just have to be…careful about it.”

“Oh!” Clover said, slapping his arm in excitement. “We could come up with rules for when we hang out, so it doesn’t get too weird.”

He made a face. “I’m not really great with rules, Lucky Charm.”

“These will be self-defined rules,” Clover said. He was like an overachiever on a group project. “We’ll be more likely to stick to them that way. Like, um…”

“No sleeping together?” Qrow smirked, raising an eyebrow.

Clover rolled his eyes. “I would think that would be obvious, but since I appreciate you getting into the spirit of things, you know what? That’s Rule #1.”

Great. He could make a whole list of things they weren’t allowed to do from his fantasies alone. And places they were not allowed to do them in.

He must have been staring at Clover, because the other man flushed slightly. “Right. Well, we don’t have to come up with the whole list right now. Let’s sleep on it. Uh. Separately!”

Gods, he was cute when he was flustered.

Qrow chuckled, watching the streets fly by. Trust a military man to come up with _protocols_ for when you and your combat partner wanted to bone down. He was surprised there wasn’t already a 200-page memo on the topic.

Maybe this could work. He was attracted to lots of people without it ever moving beyond that. And his feelings…that was just friendship. It had just been so long since he made a new friend that his brain was lumping it in with the more familiar world of sexual attraction. He could acknowledge that he wanted to have sex with Clover and also that Clover was becoming kind of important to him without needing to put the two together. They didn’t have to give up seeing each other. They could have it both ways, right?

Right?

* * *

James had made preparations.

He bought Clover’s favorite brand of ice cream. He wasn’t sure what Clover would be in the mood for, so he bought three kinds. He pulled up one of Clover’s favorite movies, an old detective flick about a snarky, quick-witted married couple and their dog, which Clover had seen about a million times. There were fresh sheets on the bed and fresh flowers on the table, and he was going absolutely mad with the need to _do something_ , to make Clover feel better.

But when Clover entered, looking like the dead, he just kicked off his shoes, walked into the bedroom, and flopped face down onto the mattress.

“Darling?” he asked, following Clover into the bedroom. Clover groaned into the pillow.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” he said, somewhat muffled. “But I’m too tired to have sex. Also I think I have a hangover.”

He chuckled, sitting on the bed next to Clover. He brushed his fingers through Clover’s hair, gently massaging his scalp. “Sleep it is, then.”

“I was gonna blow you,” Clover said, not moving an inch.

“Something to look forward to, tomorrow,” he said. “Come on, let’s get you settled. That can’t be comfortable.”

“You’d be surprised,” Clover said. But he let James pull him up, leading him into the bathroom to brush his teeth. He took the water and painkillers James offered, and let James undress him and guide him into bed.

“I’m probably gonna fall asleep,” Clover said, watching as James changed into sleep pants. “But does the massage offer still stand?”

“The offer to have your father erased from existence still stands, but we can do the massage if you prefer. The world is your oyster.” 

Clover laughed, gazing at him fondly. Gods, he missed that sound. Clover’s laugh filled him up, made him feel alive. Made the metal in his chest feel like flesh and bone, soft and warm and breakable.

“I think I just want you,” Clover said, reaching out. “Just…come to bed, please.”

“Here,” he said, nudging Clover to roll onto his stomach. He kissed the spot between Clover’s shoulders. “Let me take care of you, okay?”

“Mmm-hmm,” Clover said, sighing into the pillow as James started working over the knots in his back. He really _was_ tense, like he’d been fighting Grimm for the last few hours instead of having dinner. Clover groaned, as James rolled his knuckles on either side of his spine.

He straddled Clover’s hips, to get better leverage. Clover made a small noise, as his weight settled down. “Too much?” he asked.

“No, stay,” Clover sighed. “I want to feel you.”

He put his strength into it. Clover always complained that professional massage therapists never dug in hard enough for him. James wasn’t a professional, but he’d had his share of physical therapy after getting his prosthetics. He knew where people tended to hold their tension, and how to work it out.

As he concentrated on a particularly deep knot in Clover’s lower back, finally feeling the muscles relax under his hands, there was a soft sob from the head of the bed. He froze, leaning over.

Clover…Clover was crying.

His first reaction was panic. He’d just…never seen Clover cry like this, before. He didn’t know what to _do._ He was normally so composed. Even during sex, the loss of control seemed freely given, like Clover was gifting him a baser moment to do with as he would.

“Clover, what’s wrong?” he asked. He moved off of Clover’s back, lying down next to him and brushing the tears from the other man’s cheek.

Clover shook his head, but rolled onto his side so that James could scooch in and encircle him in his arms.

“Darling…”

“It’s stupid,” Clover said, burying his face in James’s chest. Another sob worked its way out of his body. “Doesn’t matter, I’m just being dumb.”

James frowned. “Darling, you’re not dumb. You’re the smartest person I know. And there’s nothing stupid about what you’re going through. Please, tell me.”

Clover worried at his lip. “I was so terrible to you.”

“I think you’re hurting, and I’d do absolutely anything to help,” James said, wiping some of the tears from Clover’s face. “And I wish you would be kinder to yourself, sometimes.”

Clover took a deep breath, then shut his eyes like he was in pain. “My father’s getting married,” he said. “He fell in _love._ And I know I should be happy for him, it’s just…why couldn’t he…why did he have to, now…gods, I don’t _know…”_

James waited, unsure if Clover wanted him to cut in with a reassuring word or if he should just listen. He just kept holding Clover, trying to communicate comfort through his touch. Eventually Clover spoke, his voice small.

“I really needed him when I was a kid, and he never cared unless it was to tell me I was screwing up. But when I see him with this…this _woman_. It’s like he’s completely different. He’s _nice_ to her. He seems happy. Why…”

Clover sniffled, opening his eyes and looking up at James. “Why _now?_ Why…why wasn’t I…” Another sniffle. “Why wasn’t I good enough?”

The last part was barely audible. James could actually _feel_ his heart breaking, for his lover.

“Oh, Clover…” he said, pressing a kiss to Clover’s temple. “You _are_ good enough, you know that right? If your father can’t see that, it’s his loss. You’ve always _been_ good enough.”

“But what if I’m _not_?” Clover said. “What if I let people down? I…I have to be _perfect_ , or no one will…”

Clover bit his lip, looking down.

James frowned. “No one will what, darling?”

Clover just looked down, clearly upset. “It doesn’t matter,” he said.

Brothers, James had a hunch, and it was an unbearable thought.

“ _Clover,_ ” he said, sighing. He tilted Clover’s chin up, so he could look into the other man’s bright teal eyes. “Nobody is perfect. Nobody has to be, to deserve love. We all have flaws, even you. And I say that as someone who thinks you’re about as close to perfect as anyone can get.”

Clover sniffled. “…yeah?”

“Well,” James said, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “You put pineapple on your pizza, for one.”

Clover laughed, through the tears. Something in his chest shook loose at the sound of it. His breath caught as Clover scooted forward so they were eye to eye, bodies pressed together.

“James, you know I love you, right? And I would never want to hurt you?”

“Of course, darling. And I…I don’t think you ever _could_ hurt me.”

“Good, because I…I really…”

Clover gave an enormous yawn, as a follow-up. James chuckled.

“Sleep,” he said. “You’ve had a long day.”

He brushed his hand through Clover’s hair, watching as Clover’s eyes fluttered shut under the attention. “Seriously, I will do literally anything you want,” Clover muttered, half-gone already. “Get creative.”

He smiled, softly. “Tomorrow.”

Nothing that couldn’t wait. Clover needed the rest. And he had a feeling, if Clover was as affected by the near-week apart as he was, that they’d both need plenty of energy in the morning.

“You’re the best,” Clover sighed, burying his face into the pillow. “I love you so much.”

His heart clenched, in the side of him that was soft and squishy and _human._ The borders were harder to make out, around Clover. Pietro had warned him, more than once, about phantom pain. But what he felt around Clover was the opposite. When it came to Clover James _felt_ , with his whole body. He felt _whole._

“I love you, too.”

* * *

James woke first, the next day. They were both morning people by habit, though James had a bad one of going to bed just as late. But he’d gotten plenty of sleep last night, and Clover was probably at a deficit, so he let the other man rest while he made coffee and slipped into the office. He sent Winter a message letting her know he’d be working from home for the morning, then settled in to get some work done.

And promptly got distracted thinking about Qrow.

He muddled through reports for a good two hours, then gave up and called the man, putting it on speaker so he could work while they talked. Qrow’s voice was rough with sleep, when he answered.

_"…what, Jim?”_

James glanced at the time: 0900. Not late, but not terribly early. “I’m sorry, did I wake you? I can call back later.”

_“Nah, you’re fine. I’m up now.”_

Well, now he felt a bit bad. Still, he pressed on. “Right. I just wanted to thank you again, for helping Clover. I know things went…a little sideways, from what I’ve gathered. Which is why I’m all the more grateful you could be there.”

_“I don’t know that I really did all that much, besides yell at his dad. I fucking hate that guy, by the way.”_

“Likewise,” James said, scowling. He thought of Clover last night, lost and hurting. “If possible, I hate him even more now.”

_“I want to choke him with his own fist.”_

“Unfortunately,” he said, with a laugh, “I’ve been instructed not to utilize Atlas Military resources for such purposes.”

_“Well lucky you, I’m not one of your damn resources.”_

James smiled at the phrase. _‘Lucky you.’_ It seemed like Clover was just as good for Qrow as Qrow was for Clover. He felt a sort of tactical satisfaction at having arranged that.

“Qrow, please,” he said, putting on his best authoritative voice. “If you were caught committing homicide in the Kingdom of Atlas, I’d be forced as General to prosecute you to the full extent of the law. No mercy would be spared.”

_“Got it. Don’t get caught.”_

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.”

He heard a low rasp of laughter on the other line.

_“How’s Cloves?”_

“Still sleeping,” James said. “I don’t think he’s had a good night’s rest all week.”

There was a brief pause, then Qrow dropped the teasing tone.

_“Look, Jim, you better not …”_

Qrow trailed off. James frowned.

“Qrow?”

_“…you better not just be using him for sex, is all.”_

James was flabbergasted. And a little insulted.

Sure, they had a lot of sex. Amazing, mind-blowing, life-changing sex. They had an undeniable physical chemistry. But what he felt for Clover…it was so much more. Maybe that wasn’t clear? Had he not expressed that?

“I…of course not. Qrow, I would _never_ …we’re very much in love.”

_“…Good.”_

“Did you…” he paused. “…are you giving me a shovel talk?”

There was the sound of nervous laughter. _“Heh, of course not, why would you say that?”_

“That’s very sweet of you, Qrow.”

_“It’s not sweet,”_ Qrow snapped. _“Someone just needs to tell you to shove it sometimes, okay? That’s all.”_

“And I trust you to be that person,” James said, leaning back in his chair. Qrow just grumbled.

“Regardless, Qrow, I really appreciate everything you’ve done. Let’s catch up sometime this week, just the two of us. I want to hear more about how _you’ve_ been doing. How about lunch, on me? It’s about time I started repaying the favor.”

_“…sure, Jimmy. My life’s not that interesting, but sure.”_

“Great, how about—“

The door flew open, revealing a very determined and very naked Clover. He pointed at James, first at his chest, and then…lower.

“James Ironwood, get your Iron Wood ready because I am about to _rock your world_.”

He blinked. There was silence on the other line.

“Qrow, I’ll call you back,” he said, terminating the call.

It didn’t take long to get him interested. Just a lap full of Clover, Clover’s strong thighs straddling his, his hands running through James’s hair as they kissed. He reached around to grip the two perfect globes of Clover’s ass. As they came up for air he gasped, breathless.

“What if that had been Winter, on the call?”

Clover just grinned, wiggling his hips just _so._ “Had a hunch. Got lucky, I guess.”

He groaned. “You’re terrible.”

“Yeah? What are you gonna do about it?”

James just growled, giving Clover’s ass a firm slap. Clover gasped, then sent him a filthy grin.

“Oh, you’re gonna _pun-_ ish me?”

Another slap, a little harder.

“Every time,” he instructed. Clover nodded, face flushed, biting his lip. He knew from experience that Clover could make ten to fifteen puns during sex before losing the ability to form words. James followed up with a slap to the other cheek.

Clover yelped. “What was that one for?!”

“It’s retroactive,” James replied. “Though ‘iron wood’ is so bad it deserves two.”

“Is that a promise?” Clover asked with a wink.

Well, who was he to deny that? This was obviously less of a punishment and more of an incentive. Clover cried out, as his palm connected.

“Baby, I can come up with another name for your dick,” Clover said, sweetly. “How about the Little General?”

A loud smack. Clover moaned again, his fingers scrabbling at James’s back.

“Due Process?” he gasped.

James paused. “My gun?”

“Yeah, but only when you shoot your—”

James thought that was a double-feature as well. He had two guns.

“A–ahh! _James!_ ”

Interesting. The incentive was also degrading Clover’ ability to speak at a much faster rate. As always, more data was needed.

He was about to suggest they make this a standing rule, when Qrow’s warning came back to him. James pulled back. Difficult, because Clover was all but humping against him.

“Wait,” he said, “Are you sure? We can just have a nice breakfast, if you want?”

“Mmm, you wanna come in my mouth?” Clover panted, tugging at the drawstring of his pajama pants. “I can get behind that.”

James tried to fend him off, but Clover was frustratingly nimble. Finally he caught Clover’s wrists, pulling them to the side. By the glazed-over look in Clover’s eyes, it was not having the intended effect.

“I mean it,” he said. “I hope you know that this is about more than just sex, for me.”

Clover gave him an incredulous look. He was practically vibrating. “James, that’s really fucking sweet, but what do I have to do to get you to _take me_ , already?”

Oh. Well. He supposed that was clear enough.

He gave Clover’s ass one final slap, _hard._

“ _James!_ ”

“One for good luck,” he smirked, lifting Clover in one fell swoop and carrying him back to the bedroom. “Now, I believe you said something last night about prying you open with a crowbar. I’ve had time to come up with some possible scenarios…”

He deposited Clover on the bed, then stood back and admired the picture before him. Clover, flushed and panting, legs spread wide and his cock standing proud.

_“James,_ ” he moaned, reaching down to palm himself. “Please _,_ I need…I _need you now._ ”

“Hands off,” he commanded. Clover whimpered but complied, twisting his hand in the sheets. “I’m the one who touches you, understand?”

Clover nodded, biting his lip.

James slid his pajama pants and boxers over his hips, finally freeing his aching cock. He stroked himself a few times.

“Is this what you want?” he asked, leaning over the bed so Clover could get a good look.

“ _Yes,”_ Clover said, breathy. His eyes were trained on James’s cock, hungry and wanton, as he licked his lips.

“Good,” he said. “On your knees.”

Clover eagerly flipped over while he retrieved a bottle of lube from the bedside table. And, well. _That_ was a welcome sight, too. Braced on his elbows, ass raised high in the air. Especially with Clover’s cheeks flushed red from the earlier abuse.

“Come _on_ ,” Clover urged him, looking over his shoulder and wiggling. “What’s taking so long?”

“I was just thinking,” he said, snapping out of it. “How you have the most perfect ass I have ever seen. Scientists should study it. It could be in a museum.”

“And yet, you’re just standing there.” Clover said, pouting. “Which is very mean, in my opinion.”

“Allow me to apologize,” he said, and got to work.

“ _James_ ,” Clover panted, dropping his head between his arms, breath coming in short gasps as James opened him up with his mouth. “You… _fuck_ , you can never shave that beard. That’s so… _ohhhh…!_ ”

“Gods, I missed the sounds you make,” he murmured, lightly biting Clover’s inner thigh.

“I missed your… _ahh_ , fuck! Your…your… _ohhhhh_ …”

Clover didn’t finish the thought. He almost went into a trance, every time James did this. It was just about the only time he didn’t beg to go faster, harder, more. He went completely boneless, lost in the moment, just riding the wave of sensation as James alternated his tongue with his fingers.

The feeling was mutual. The world could have fallen away, and James wouldn’t actually care about anything except Clover spread out under his hands. Making Clover feel good. Drawing out every little gasp and moan he could until Clover came absolutely undone. It was intoxicating, and he never got enough of it. James was rock hard and he’d barely even touched himself.

It was such a rush that he almost lost track of how _close_ Clover was. And while Clover could and absolutely _would_ come just from getting eaten out, James had other plans. He switched back to his fingers, adding some more lube and stretching Clover out in earnest. Clover whined, at the burn.

“I’m ready, I need you now,” Clover moaned, right back to being impatient.

“You’re still so tight, darling,” he chided, feeling for the spot that would make Clover scream. “When was the last time you had my cock? It was more than a week, I think.”

“Baby, I don’t even know what _day_ it— _fuck fuck fuck!_ ”

James found it.

All right. Now _he_ was getting impatient. He withdrew his hand, to great protest, and slicked up his member. Gods, he was already _leaking_ , this had gone on so long. He gripped Clover’s hips, pulling him up to the angle he wanted.

“Are you ready for me?” he asked, lining himself up.

Clover just whined, high and needy. He took that as encouragement and pushed in, in one smooth motion. Gods, it was…it was _good._ Clover made an absolutely _obscene_ noise, taking him in like he was made for it. Not for the first time, he was grateful he didn’t have neighbors.

Fully seated, he leaned over, letting Clover feel his weight. “Good?”

“Yes. _Fuck._ Your cock. I missed having your cock in me. That’s what…what I was gonna say earlier.”

“I can’t believe I let you get this tight,” he murmured, starting a series of shallow thrusts that had Clover moaning. “I should just keep you loose from my cock. You need it every night, don’t you?”

“Mmm, _yes,_ ” Clover panted. He let out another sharp cry, as James hit that spot inside of him with a sharp thrust.

It was obvious hyperbole; they both worked so hard that there were nights they were too tired to walk. But it was a lovely fantasy, to have nothing more to occupy his time than _Clover._

James sped up, going deeper and harder, nearly pulling out before slamming back in. Clover absolutely _wailed_ , pushing back up into him. Gods, he was close. He wanted to make Clover come. He reached down, stroking Clover’s cock with his left hand while his metal arm kept a firm grip on his hip. Tomorrow there would be bruises.

“You’ve been so good, darling. Can you come for me, now?”

It didn’t take long before Clover cried out, the sound of it like victory, clenching around him as he came. James milked him through it, drawing out every last gasp and moan and twitch of his cock, before gripping Clover’s hips with both hands and driving in _hard._ Just a few more deep thrusts had him following behind, his vision whiting out briefly as he came with a soft groan.

For a while he just stayed there, half-collapsed on top of Clover, as they both recovered. He could feel Clover’s back against his chest, feel his breath coming in heavy gasps while his own heart pounded. Feel Clover tight around his softening member, taking in his release.

“Fuck,” Clover gasped, rolling onto his back as James finally pulled out. “That was…”

He gave a little salute.

James sighed. “We are _not_ calling it the Little General.”

“You’re right, it’s not little at all. How about the Headmaster?”

There was only one way to stop this. He crawled over Clover, claiming his lips in a deep kiss. Clover melted into him, contented, pulling him in. He studied his lover’s eyes, as they separated. There was an overwhelming sensation that this moment was _important_ , somehow.

“How about you’re about the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen in my life?” he said. “What do you think about that?”

“I think you’re an enormous cheeseball, and I love it,” Clover said, tapping him on the nose. “I hope you didn’t have anything else planned for today, because I plan on keeping you in bed as long as possible.”

“Suddenly, my schedule is clear,” James said. “Thank you, by the way. For trusting me, last night.”

Clover went serious, the vulnerable look from last night flashing over his face. “I…thank _you_ , James. I…I’ve never told anyone else what I…thanks for making me feel safe, I guess. For not giving up on me, even when I make it…hard.”

“Clover,” he said, stroking the other man’s cheek. “Loving you is _easy_. You can push me away all you want, but it’ll still be there. As easy as breathing.”

“…oh,” Clover said. He broke the eye contact, worrying at his lip. He was still flushed from their lovemaking, but the red in his cheeks seemed driven by something else.

James sighed, settling in against Clover’s side, wrapping his arm around his lover’s waist. He could wait, for Clover to believe him.

After all, he knew he was right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a fun game: try to spot the point where I tried to fade-to-black that whole last scene and Clover wrenched it from my hands. 
> 
> Clover: *throws script on ground* Uh-uh. I want James to take me to POUND TOWN, POPULATION CLOVER  
> James: Darling. Please. I’m trying to make sweet love to you.  
> Clover: Grip it and rip it, baybee!  
> James: *deep sigh* I’m adding this data to the spreadsheet.  
> Clover: ...the what now?


	8. 8 Simple Rules For Dating My Boyfriend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clover and Qrow Are Not Having Sex. James gives Qrow some quality meat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to The Dating Arc! Just.........nonstop dates. Romantic or otherwise. Which is to say, intentionally or unintentionally romantic.

“Hear ye, hear ye,” Clover said, rapping his fist on the dashboard of the truck. “This commences the inaugural meeting of the Clover and Qrow Are Not Having Sex Club. As your president, I’d like to thank you all for attending.”

Qrow stared at him, blankly. “Cloves, no one else is here.”

No one sentient, at lease. Just a robot driver and a couple of knights stashed in the back just in case. And Qrow was only here because Clover _assigned_ them this stupid supply run.

Clover cleared his throat. “Qrow, if you’d like to add to the discussion please raise your hand.”

Qrow raised his hand.

“Yes, Qrow. Go ahead,” Clover said, pointing to him.

“You’re an idiot.”

“Right,” Clover said, frowning in a faux-offended manner. “I’ll just make a note here in the minutes that member Branwen was _quite_ rude.”

Clover mimed jotting down a note on his hand. That little shit was enjoying this.

“Ahem,” Clover continued. “The purpose of this meeting is to draft the bylaws which shall regulate our, uh…relations. Or lack thereof.”

He held up a finger. “As defined by member Branwen, the primary rule and indeed the entire existence of this organization is to prohibit the act of Sexual Intercourse between members Branwen and Ebi.”

“If you keep calling it sexual intercourse, then I don’t think our _members_ are in danger of interacting anytime soon,” Qrow said, rolling his eyes. “Cloves do we really have to—“

“ _Qrow,_ ” Clover whined, breaking character. “Come on, I never got to be in any clubs when I was a kid. Let me have fun with this.”

Damn it, now it was endearing.

Qrow sighed, crossing his arms and slumping into his seat. “Fine.”

Clover’s face lit up. “See? This’ll be fun. I don’t suppose you did a lot of extracurricular activities either, did you?”

“Is a raid on an innocent village an activity?” Qrow said, flat.

He supposed he’d been in one big club, that he was born into. That made it sound a lot more fun than it was. Nobody fucking took _minutes_ , at least.

Clover blanched. “Oh gods, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t make jokes about—“

“You’re fine, jeez. Let’s just get this over with.”

It wasn’t like they had anywhere to go, besides Amity. Which would be another _hour_ at least. Qrow almost prayed for a _Club_ to attack, just to break up the monotony.

“Er, right,” Clover said, with a bit less enthusiasm. “Uh, where was I?”

“Rules.”

“Rules!” Clover said, perking up. “As I see it, we have a classic two-by-two contingency. We see each other for either work or social purposes. And we’re either one-on-one or in a group. The least risky category is obviously working as a group. I don’t see much of a problem there. I’m not about to jump you on the job when my team or your nieces are present.”

Was Clover about to jump him on the job when the girls were _not_ present? Qrow felt a bit less sure of his current position. The seat of the truck was roomy enough, but if one of them got a bit too sloppy with their legs there could be…bumping.

Qrow sat up a bit straighter and tried not to look at Clover manspreading. That was probably a good personal rule, in any case. Don’t look at Clover’s crotch.

He snuck one look, for old times’ sake.

“The category of highest risk, conversely, is one-on-one for social purposes,” Clover continued, oblivious. “Therefore, I propose we limit ourselves to activities with low physical contact. So for example, no…”

“Sex?” Qrow supplied.

Clover went red. “Yes, Qrow, thank you. Rule #1 primarily applies to this category.”

He waggled his eyebrows, unable to resist a chance to mess with Clover. “ _Primarily._ You fuck on the job a lot, huh Lucky Charm?”

“Qrow, I fucked on the job about two hours ago,” Clover said. Well, that confirmed it. No wonder he was so chipper. And…sitting with such a wide stance. “And no, I’m not proud of it, but if you saw what that man has stashed in his pants I think anyone would be hard-pressed to make better life decisions.”

Qrow had a pretty good idea, actually. Sometimes things became apparent, in the heat of battle. Not that he’d ever tell the man that. He didn’t need to be giving Jimmy a big head about his Big Head. Or thinking about Clover giving Big Jimmy head.

Now there was a thought.

“Shit,” Clover said. “Sorry, I probably shouldn’t talk about my sex life. Maybe that should be a—”

“I don’t mind,” Qrow blurted, his mouth five steps ahead of his brain.

Clover blinked. “You…don’t?”

Qrow scrabbled for some sort of explanation, other than the fact that he was a depraved soul and the thought of Jimmy doing things to Clover was Doing Things To Him.

“Uh, I mean…you don’t have anyone you can talk to about that stuff,” he stammered. “So you can…talk to me? As…your friend?”

Gods, Qrow was just digging the hole deeper.

Clover’s mouth opened, then closed. His flush was going all the way down his neck, now. Qrow wondered how far down it…

Nope. No. Stop.

“Uh, wow,” Clover said. “That’s…generous. Thanks.”

Qrow lightly punched Clover on the shoulder, a gesture he’d never done to another adult man before. “Sure thing, buddy.”

A smile twitched at the corner of Clover’s mouth. “Right. So, low contact. Games should be fine. Movies provided they’re not romantic and we sit on separate pieces of furniture. I suggest if we train off the clock together, we do it when other people are present.”

Qrow frowned. “Cloves, I don’t know about you, but sparring with an attractive person is kind of a turn-on. Even with an audience.”

And on certain occasions, _especially_ with an audience. Given the right audience.

“Oh?” Clover squeaked. “Wow. That’s…I mean, honestly, same. But if the audience is a bunch of teenagers that should…um. Put a damper on that.”

Qrow thought back to the sledding incident. It hadn’t been _much_ of a damper. “You sure?”

“I just don’t think we should waste an opportunity to improve as Hunstmen,” Clover said, with a prim sniff. He crossed his arms, and that was that. “Okay, what about meals? We should probably keep it to the mess hall, right? It’s a shame, but I can’t think of a less sexy environment.”

Qrow shrugged. “Sure. The mess hall is as good as anything, I guess.”

That wasn’t strictly true. It wasn’t like Qrow didn’t have his little favorites. But with the way he’d grown up, even foods he didn’t particularly like he was used to just shoveling down. And he didn’t know a lot about fancy stuff, unless it was to gather information. In his experience, once you learned how to pronounce and politely consume about five different foods, you passed as a classy guy. And if that didn’t work, he could just change into a bird and eat bugs.

Filet Mignon and worms. What lay between was a mystery.

Apparently, this was an affront to Clover’s sensibilities. “Are you _kidding?_ This is a major sacrifice. I haven’t even taken you to that noodle place, yet. Which was _amazing,_ by the way. Even James liked it.”

“I mean, we’ll save money,” Qrow said. “The mess hall’s free.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Clover pouted, worrying at his bottom lip. He was like a little kid who didn’t get the toy he wanted. Qrow rolled his eyes, sensing a ‘but.’

“Unless…” Clover said, cocking his head.

“…Unless?”

Close enough. Qrow didn’t need to sense any more ‘buts’ from Clover Ebi.

“Look, why don’t we just do what we did before?” Clover offered. “Steer clear of the hot date spots, stick to casual places? If it wouldn’t look romantic to other people if they saw James and I there, it probably won’t _feel_ romantic if it’s you and me.”

There was a logical fallacy embedded somewhere in all that, but Qrow had a weakness for free food. And Clover had pretty good taste.

“Are you paying?” he shot back.

“Obviously,” Clover said. “Wait, is _that_ too romantic? Maybe we should split.”

“Meh, I’ll pass then,” Qrow said. The mess hall was closer, anyway.

“Fine, I’ll pay.” Clover snapped. “Do you want to get noodles tonight or what?”

“Fine,” he said, throwing up his hands. “It that enough rules for now, Mr. President?”

“I think that should get us started,” Clover said, brightly. “We can always amend the bylaws as needed.” He cleared his throat, rapping the dashboard again. “Let this conclude the inaugural meeting of the Clover and Qrow Are Not Having Sex Club! Gentlemen, dismissed.”

And awkward silence fell. They still had another forty-five minutes or so in the truck. Both he and Clover stared out into the tundra for a moment, before Clover cracked.

“Cards?”

“Gods, yes.”

As Clover shuffled, Qrow tried to think about what they had actually agreed not to do. It wasn’t much. In fact, as a result of this conversation he’d revealed several of his turn-ons, encouraged Clover to gossip about his sex life, and agreed to be taken out to dinner at a restaurant that was not outwardly romantic but that Clover considered sexy enough to take his boyfriend to.

But he and Clover couldn’t watch steamy movies or sit on the same couch to play video games.

So…that was progress.

* * *

“Qrow! I hope you’re hungry.”

James was starving. He’d been in the office since six, subsisting only on large quantities of coffee and a banana that Clover brought him during their morning meeting. An actual banana. And then…a second banana, of sorts.

Much as he hated to give even inadvertent credit to Colonel Ebi, the disastrous dinner had marked a turning point in their relationship. There was a new level of trust, there. With their one-year _official_ anniversary fast approaching, it seemed appropriate. Both of them seemed determined to balance their deepening relationship with the demands of the job, as much as they could while keeping it secret. James took more nights off from work and Clover took more chances during the day to blur the lines between work and fun.

So as a practical matter, James spent more time in his apartment and Clover spent more time on the couch in his office. Sometimes it was sexual but often it was just…being together. Working, or talking. Being close.

James was floating on clouds. He’d never been happier.

And he had Qrow Branwen to thank for all of it.

“I could eat,” Qrow said, absentmindedly scratching his belly. “Slept late and missed breakfast, again.”

James frowned. “Qrow, you shouldn’t skip meals.”

“Meh, it’s nothing,” the shapeshifter said, with a shrug. “Had a big dinner last night.”

Recognition hit him, and he smiled. “Right, Clover mentioned you two got noodles. How was it?”

“Tch,” Qrow snorted. “I mean, it was _great_ , but I can’t believe a spice wuss like _you_ made it through a meal there.”

“I assure you I can handle a little bit of heat,” he said.

Also, Clover charmed the kitchen staff into making his much milder. It had still taken two Mistralian milk teas to quell the fire in his mouth. He’d never felt so alive. In any case, there was a certain subset of the population who saw him as General Ironwood, Worldly Man Of Strength. And a much smaller subset of restaurant workers who now knew he was James Ironwood, delicate spice baby.

“Uh-huh,” Qrow said. “And how was your tummy, after?”

“I’m not going to dignify that with a response.”

His tummy was fine. His mouth was not fine, after sucking Clover off. James had a sudden appreciation for the mild taste of pineapple. Just…not on his pizza.

“Shall we?” he said, gesturing toward the door.

“Lead the way,” Qrow replied.

The restaurant he picked was an institution, The Atlas Social Club, not far from the Academy. It was one of his favorites. Inside, the cool tones of the Atlas streets faded away, replaced by warm wood and plush leather booths. Qrow let out a low whistle, as they entered the dining room.

“Damn Jim, I think I’m a bit underdressed,” the shapeshifter said, taking in the finely dressed patrons. “You know I would’ve been fine with a burger or something.”

James shook his head. “Please, Qrow. First of all, you look lovely. And second, I want to treat you.”

Clover never wanted to come here with him, unless it was part of a group. There were too many important people who might spot them and get the wrong impression. It was a shame; the restaurant could be terribly romantic at night. Cozy candlelit booths, white tablecloths, a bottle of good wine. James couldn’t cook to save his life, but he knew how to appreciate a good meal. If he couldn’t treat Clover to a nice dry-aged steak, he could at least bring Qrow.

The lunch crowd was a bit more business-oriented, which Qrow noted as well. He snorted. “As long as you don’t mind being seen with me, sure.”

“I was about to say the same thing to you,” James said, with a wry smile. Qrow snorted again, the corner of his mouth turning up.

The maître d', a refined antelope faunus, greeted them with a warm smile. “General Ironwood! So good to see you again. Would you like your usual table?”

“That would be lovely, Maurice.”

They were led to a generous corner booth, perfectly placed to have a vantage point over the entire restaurant. James was fond of the view. There were, after all, deals going down every day in this room. Keeping track of who came with who, and when, was valuable intelligence. He slid into his usual spot at the banquette.

And bumped hips with Qrow, who’d slipped in the other side.

James blinked, then shook his head with a smile. Of course, Qrow had the exact same thought. The man had been a spy for decades.

“You don’t want to turn your back to the room, do you?”

“With this crowd?” Qrow said, raising an eyebrow. “Of course not.”

There was a beat, then Qrow narrowed his eyes. “That’s why this is _your_ table, huh? You paranoid control freak.”

“I simply enjoy seeing all entrances and exits at the same time,” James said. And all of the tables. And the servers’ station. That didn’t make him a _control freak_. Just…enthusiastic about restaurant design.

Neither one of them budged.

Maurice, ever the picture of professionalism, neatly rearranged the table setting so they were placed side-by-side. “Ah, General, I wasn’t aware this was a _romantic_ visit. How lovely! I’ll fetch a candle.”

The faunus handed them their menus with a slight bow of his head, his delicate horns dipping gracefully. And then he was gone, and they were left sitting hip to hip like two lovers.

Qrow smirked at him. “What do you say we split, Jimmy? You watch the front, I’ll watch the back?”

“I believe I’m in a better position to watch the back,” he replied.

“Barely. Besides, the back is where all the action is.”

“Precisely.”

Maurice returned with an amber-colored glass votive and a vase containing a single rose. He lit the candle with smooth precision, gave James a little wink, and then departed.

Well, the mood was certainly set.

Qrow stretched out, draping a long arm over the back of the booth and settling in. He could feel the warmth of the other man pressed against his flesh side. The soft glow of the candle illuminated Qrow’s pale skin, catching flickers of red-gold in his eyes.

“Heh, I guess I could let you take it this time,” Qrow said, smirking. “Since you’ve gone to all this trouble. You _sure_ you don’t mind being seen with me?”

“Wouldn’t trade it for the world,” he murmured.

He and Qrow had always _bickered_ , it was what they did. Qrow was always too reckless, too sloppy. And he insisted James was too stiff and controlled. And…maybe there was truth to that, on both sides. But now Qrow had sobered up and James had fallen in love, and their bickering seemed entirely different. It was _fun_ , for one.

James cleared his throat, opening his menu. “Well. Pick anything you like, Qrow. On me.”

“You sure know how to butter a guy up, Jim.”

“Qrow,” James said, in all seriousness. “I truly do want to thank you. Things with Clover have been…I’ve never been happier. I know I can’t always be there the way he needs, but just the thought that he has you there, to catch him…I can’t express how thankful I am.”

Something flickered across Qrow’s face, barely perceptible. “Jim, I…look. Clover’s my friend, too. I don’t need you to ask, to want to help him.”

James considered that. They really had gotten close, Clover and Qrow. With their semblances, James had known they’d be a good match in the field. But maybe they were a good match in other ways. Qrow seemed calmer, happier. And Qrow was so caring. He supposed he’d _known_ Qrow was a dedicated uncle, but he hadn’t much witnessed it firsthand until their whole little party had come to Atlas. But it was seeing that care applied to Clover, even to James _himself_ , that cemented the quality as a fundamental part of Qrow’s nature.

They were all having to stand on their own, without Ozpin. The man always played peacekeeper, but it was _without_ him that James and Qrow had finally hit their stride.

“In that case, you’re _my_ friend, and I’d like to treat you to a nice meal,” James said.

Qrow huffed, then scanned the menu. “I don’t even know what I want.”

“The steaks are amazing,” James said. “They’re known for their meat.”

He thought he head Qrow mutter something about ‘big meat,’ and then the server approached.

“Gentlemen, my name is Akanksha, and I’ll be your server today,” the woman said, all politeness and ease. “Our specials are fresh lobster with herb butter, and a mushroom risotto with braised short ribs. Any questions about the menu I can answer, or do you two know what you want?”

“I’ll have the Filet,” Qrow said.

James huffed. “Really, Qrow?”

James couldn’t cook. And he wasn’t…well versed, in a lot of non-Atlesian cuisines. But he had been dating Clover long enough to have a sort of…instinctual disdain for filet mignon. Honestly, he didn’t _quite_ understand the distinction, other than there was some sort of texture to flavor tradeoff. And that Clover laughed at him for ordering the filet because it was a nice portion size and easy to eat. In any case, the hangar steak Clover made was infinitely better than anything he’d had in a restaurant, but he couldn’t separate that from the fact that Clover had blown him like a horn directly after dinner.

Qrow looked offended. “What, is that not a good pick?”

“It is,” James said. “For a newbie.”

Qrow sputtered, a flush creeping into his cheeks. James felt a strange satisfaction in that. It was so rarely he got one over on the other man. This was just fair play, after Qrow’s noodle taunting.

Akanksha leaned over, diplomatically. “Might I suggest the rib-eye, for two?”

James smiled. “I think that sounds lovely. Qrow?”

Qrow threw up his hands. “Fine, whatever Jimmy. Just so you know, I’m not putting out.”

Hmm. That was a thought. As Akanksha took their drink order, James couldn’t stop thinking about it. Qrow should be happy, like he was. Qrow should have someone.

He had to talk to Clover. A little curl of jealousy wound into him, thinking of Clover’s past partners. But if anyone would know someone to set Qrow up with, it would be him.

He had to find love for Qrow. And he had no idea of how to do that.

But Clover would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, I didn't mean to write about food in this chapter, and then Clover's filet mignon opinions snuck in.


	9. Tactical Planning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clover and James meet for a critical debriefing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A tiny bit of plot, and then just...just porn. With a bit of plot. But mostly porn.

“You had it _rare?”_

Clover looked down at his boyfriend, his mouth falling open in astonishment. His fingers, which had been gently brushing through soft black locks, stilled. James looked up, his head resting in Clover’s lap.

“Darling, Qrow said he wanted it _raw_.”

Oh. Well. That was…something to think about.

He resumed his task, combing through James’s hair to distract himself from impure thoughts. “Personally, I would’ve gone medium-rare for a dry-aged beef. Did you get it with the mushrooms?”

“Of course,” James said in assent, his eyes closing. “And the creamed spinach.”

Clover nodded in approval. “Nice. Dessert?”

“We split a crème bruleé,” James said, groaning as Clover massaged his temples. “Mmm, that feels lovely.”

They were on the sofa of James’s office, relaxing after a long day. Officially, James was debriefing Clover after a mission at the Amity site had run long. But they’d finished that ten minutes ago. So now Clover was debriefing James about his lunch with Qrow.

“Simple, but classic.” Clover said. “I approve. You should take a lunch more often; you’re not nearly as tense as you normally are. Did Qrow like it?”

“I practically had to roll him back to the Academy,” James murmured, a smile curling at the corners of his mouth.

“Good boy. You paid?”

“Of course.”

Clover hid a smile of his own. It was cute, thinking about the two of them out to lunch like that. Of _Qrow,_ enjoying a fancy meal alongside the Kingdom’s elite. The Atlas Social Club was great and all, but it was a see and be seen sort of place. The menu was well-executed, but kind of…unsurprising. Clover wasn’t opposed to a good steak, but he could make a pretty great one at home. For half the price.

Fuck, maybe he was more like his father than he thought.

Clover consoled himself with the knowledge that the Colonel would never buy a separate mini-fridge for the purposes of dry-aging beef. In fact, the Colonel’s range of steak consumption was probably limited to _‘and eggs,’_ _‘chicken-fried,_ ’ and ‘ _Salisbury_.’

“That sounds really nice,” he said. “Were you two celebrating something? You hardly ever even make it to the mess hall.”

Honestly, they might as well put a picture of James next to the definition of _‘sad desk lunch.’_

“Oh,” James said. “Nothing…in particular. Just catching up with an old friend, is all. I don’t think we’ve just _talked_ like that in ages.”

Brothers only knew what those two got up to in their morning meetings, in that case. Probably something to do with the relics. Or Ozpin. Clover didn’t worry about it; he trusted James to bring him in on it when he needed to.

“Well, I’m glad Qrow got you to actually take a break,” Clover said, with a gentle laugh.

Typical. Qrow didn’t even have to _do anything_ to get James to stop working. He just had to exist. But of course, it made sense. It was _Qrow._ Clover could relate. He could hardly _think_ around the man these days. Ugh, he was so mixed up.

“Do you think we should invite Qrow over?”

Clover almost had a heart attack. “What?”

“For dinner,” James clarified, sitting up. He pivoted to face Clover, then took his hand. “I just thought it might be nice to…well, we don’t normally get to do things like that. Be together, with friends. But since Qrow knows about us already…”

Qrow, having dinner with him and James. Just his two favorite people in Atlas, together in a room. The three of them at the table, talking and joking together over a hot meal. Lingering over games. Watching a movie. Being able to tell their little stories, openly share their affection. Like a real couple.

Clover’s heart did a little somersault.

“You want to have a dinner party,” Clover said, a grin spreading on his face. “I think that’s an excellent idea.”

He leaned in, giving James a deep kiss. James wrapped his arms around him, letting out a pleased hum. Clover pushed him into the soft leather of the sofa and hooked a leg around to settle over his lap, making sure to show his _full appreciation_ of the idea.

“Well, three is hardly a party,” James said, when Clover let him up for air. He gave a breathless little laugh. “More like company.”

“I could cook,” Clover said, his mind already racing at the possibilities. “Oooh, and I could make something special for dessert. Maybe a flourless chocolate cake. Or soufflé?”

“Are you sure?” James said, his hands massaging Clover’s spread thighs. “We could just order in. I don’t want to put any work on you.”

“If I invite someone over to dinner, I am not _ordering in,”_ Clover said, sitting back with a pout. Honestly, it’s as if James hardly knew him. “This would be the first time Qrow’s had dinner with us. Don’t you think we should make it nice?”

Clover had him on the ropes, pinned beneath his weight and half-hard. James only gave a moment’s hesitation.

“What about…that chicken dish, that you make. That you made for me, when we first started…”

Clover knew _exactly_ which chicken dish James was referring to. It was his date night secret weapon. He had that chicken dish to thank for his entire relationship.

“The chicken piccata?” he said, innocently. He gave his hips a little wiggle, and James groaned. “You liked that?”

Clover had never not gotten laid from making that dish. It was a guaranteed man-killer.

“I…if it’s not too much trouble,” James said. His cheeks were faintly pink, beneath his beard. He almost seemed _shy._

It was absolutely adorable. Clover knew his cooking was good, but he had no idea that James was so affected by it.

“It’s no trouble,” he said, honestly. That was the brilliance of Clover Ebi’s Patented Date Night Dish; it looked like he’d spent all day cooking, but it was ridiculously easy. He almost felt guilty about it. Men were so easily swayed by chicken cutlets.

“Really?” James said. “I…Clover, that would be fantastic. I think Qrow would love that. And you…you _know_ I love that dish.”

“Oh, do you now?” he teased. “What would you do for it?”

James growled, pulling him in close. Clover gasped at the friction.

“What do you _want_ me to do?”

Every time. A guaranteed man-killer.

Clover leaned into it, ghosting his lips over the other man’s. “Me, for starters.”

Apparently, James was wound up just as tight as he was, because that was all it took for him to scoop Clover up by the thighs. It was like a spark of electricity went straight to his groin, and he ground himself against James as he wrapped his legs around that solid bulk. _Gods_ , he loved dating a man this strong.

And James liked to show off. To his surprise, instead of moving to the desk James carried him right past it. There was a thump as he hit something solid, and then Clover felt cool glass against his back. The windows, he realized. James’s office had floor to ceiling glass, perks of being the headmaster. Clover moaned as James pressed him against it, attacking his neck with kisses and bites.

“ _Fuck_ , James, is that gonna hold?” he panted, glancing behind him. He caught a glimpse of shimmering green from the night sky, and then it was just a sheer drop to the streets of Atlas. The last thing he wanted was to plummet to his death because he liked getting fucked against a wall.

“This glass is the height of Atlesian engineering. Designed to withstand Grimm, bullets, and hundred-mile-per-hour winds,” James said. Brothers, the man was sexy when he was talking specs.

“Mmm, but did the scientists account for your dick?” he muttered, working the buttons of James’s coat open. He used his legs to hold himself up long enough for James to shed the outer layer, fabric falling to the floor with a rustle.

“Okay, more important, do you think _you_ can hold me?”

Clover wasn’t especially _bulky_ , but he was tall and there was just…just a _lot_ of him. Not every partner could keep up.

“I _know_ I can,” James said. His strong metal hand massaged Clover’s thigh, as it clenched tight around his waist. “You like that, don’t you? That I can pick you up and throw you around like you weigh nothing?”

Clover’s eyes slid closed and he whined, as James claimed his mouth in a kiss. Gods, he…he really _did_ like that. James was just so _strong_ , and sometimes he just _craved_ that sense of freedom. To not have to be the strongest person in the room. He knew it was…James had his own self-consciousness, worrying that his altered body was _too_ powerful. Unsuited for tenderness. But Clover knew the truth. The man before him was both a powerhouse of sexual energy and a giant sentimental softy. He was perfect.

Clover worked the next series of buttons with laser focus, fingers leading the way even as James kept his mouth occupied with kisses. He wanted to _feel_ James, against him. None of this shirt on, pants open business. Layer by layer he worked, until cool metal and pale, scarred flesh were under his hands.

“Now, this isn’t fair at all,” James murmured, his hands reaching up under the tails of Clover’s vest. “I don’t believe I approved of this. It’s got to go.”

“Yes, sir,” he breathed, as James unbuttoned his vest. A quick shrug of the shoulders, and it was on the floor with all of James’s many layers. His tank top quickly followed. They were really amassing quite the collection.

And then James was unbuttoning his trousers, reaching in and _finally_ setting his cock free. Clover groaned, as James stroked him. “Fuck, _yes!_ Ohhhh, _fuck,_ James, that’s so good.”

Clover threw his head back against the glass in ecstasy. James made a low rumble of approval.

He glanced down, to where his legs were wrapped firmly around James’s waist. James’s flesh hand worked his shaft, teasing, while the other massaged his ass. There was still a frustrating amount of clothing in the way.

“As hot as this is, you might have to— _ahhh!_ To let me down at some point or we’re gonna have a… _fuck_ , James…a logistical problem,” Clover gasped out, as James stroked his cock.

Luckily, Clover had Atlas’s foremost tactician between his thighs. James gave him a wicked grin, then tapped his arm. “Loosen your legs a bit, and hold on.”

Clover’s biceps strained across James’s shoulders as the other man reached down, gripping the fabric of his trousers and boxer briefs with both hands. With a sharp tug, the fabric ripped cleanly in two, letting him work each pant leg down. Clover felt a deep shudder of arousal from the display. He felt strangely _more_ exposed, with the ruined fabric bunched above his boots.

“Fuck…” he panted, his pupils blown wide. “I liked those pants.”

“Those pants are part of your uniform, and therefore are the property of the Atlas military,” James said, working his own belt open. “And as your commanding officer I can remove them any time I want.”

“Yes, _sir_ ,” Clover moaned, as James paused to give him a few teasing strokes.

James pulled a small bottle of lube from his pants pocket, holding it in his teeth as he freed himself from the fabric. Clover groaned. Of course, he came prepared. Pietro might as well build a dispenser into the man’s right hand.

“Oh, so just _my_ pants get ripped then,” Clover muttered. James shimmied out of his trousers, finally kicking them off. He retrieved the lube and slicked up his fingers.

“I’m surprised you don’t rip them every time you bend over, with that ass of yours,” James countered, giving the ass in question a light slap.

Clover gave a little yelp, turning into a moan as James teased his entrance. He worked two fingers in, drawing out a few mewling noises from Clover’s throat. He couldn’t help it. James had big hands, and he was good with them.

“Gods, you’re desperate for it, aren’t you?”

“You’re the one who got all hot and bothered from my cutlets,” Clover panted. He whined as James added a third finger, stretching him open. He would never underestimate the power of pounded meat again.

“ _Gods,_ James. Fuck, that feels so…had you already decided when I walked in that you were gonna fuck me on this window?”

“Of course not,” James said, curling his fingers deliciously. Clover bit his lip to keep from crying out. “But the stars are quite lovely tonight, don’t you think?”

Clover couldn’t really tell. It was mostly just _James_ , in his field of vision.

“I…can’t really…”

“Lean back,” James instructed, removing his fingers. “I’ve got you. Just…look up.”

Tentatively, he did so, his legs loosening around James’s midsection as he put more weight on his shoulders. James pulled his hips forward, shifting his center of gravity so he had no choice but to let the other man support him completely. He tilted his head back, resting it against the glass and looking up.

And _oh,_ that was something. Through the glass half-dome above him he could see the _entire sky_ , glittering and huge.

“See that big, bright one?”

Clover saw it. He _felt_ the blunt tip of James’s cock at his entrance.

“Polaris,” James murmured, as he slowly pushed in. Clover let out a low moan. The position they were in made it feel like he was getting absolutely _skewered_ by the substantial member. It felt amazing.

“Fuck…James…”

Clover gasped for breath at the other man bottomed out. He glanced down, and James pinched his cheek in warning.

“I believe I said look _up.”_

Clover obeyed with a groan, and James started moving. Just shallow motions at first, testing the angle. “Those three to the left, Orion’s belt,” James continued.

He searched the sky, uncomprehending. Was James really…oh. James’s left.

“May I remind you that I’m seeing all of this upside d— _oohhhh, fuck!”_

James was getting bolder, settling into a steady rhythm.

“Pisces, the fish. A good one for you, I think. Hmm…ah! Pleiades, the seven sisters. And there you can see Virgo.”

“Baby, you’re a little late for that,” Clover countered, chancing a cheeky wink. James _rammed_ into him, and Clover cried out as he dropped his head back onto the glass. Trust the Headmaster of Atlas to make a _teaching moment_ out of screwing him against a window. Gods he was…he was _enthusiastic_ , tonight.

“Sagittarius. Perseus. Aquarius…”

Clover had no idea if he was supposed to be actually seeing any of these or if James was just doing this for his own benefit, but he couldn’t be bothered to care. It was a very particular experience. There was nothing to hold onto except _James,_ strong arms hooked under his thighs and his own weight dropping him onto that big, thick shaft. The heat of James’s body holding him and the cold, slick glass at his back. All while James’s deep voice counted off the constellations, only pausing for the occasional grunt of exertion. The stars above seemed to pulse in time with James’s cock.

“James…!” he moaned, as a brutal thrust zeroed in on his sweet spot. Gods, it was…he was so fucking _close_ , but it wasn’t quite enough. He needed _more_. His cock twitched against his stomach, trapped between them. He tried to get a hand down there, unhooking one arm from around James’s shoulders.

“Ah-ah!” James tutted, pausing. “Did I say you could touch yourself?”

“Did you say it in ancient Atlesian?” Clover whined, obediently retracting his palm.

“Eyes up, hands off,” James said, adjusting his grip and resuming his thrusts. The pace was _agonizingly_ slow, every roll of his hips accompanied by a new…a new…

“Andromeda, Cassiopeia…”

This was torture. Clover’s head lolled against the glass, vaguely painful but for the absolute _sparks_ shooting up his spine at every pass of James’s cock. Gods, wasn’t he tired yet?

“I’m…I can’t… _ahhh!_ ”

“Oh, do you want to come?” James said, low and a little playful. “But I’m not done yet, darling, we haven’t even gotten through the major groups.”

“Please…” he whimpered, completely at the mercy of the man holding him. “James…James _please!”_

“Please…?”

“ _Please,_ James, let me come!”

There was a low growl from James’s throat and then the steady rhythm abruptly broke. James gripped his ass, spreading his legs impossibly wider, and _rammed_ into him. Clover let out a filthy moan, the sound echoing across the glass. He made a wish to his semblance that no one was out in the rotunda.

“ _Gods,_ you’re so…”

He could hear James’s control slipping, his movements going erratic as he went faster and harder. Clover whimpered, holding on for dear life. He was so _fucking_ close.

“Come for me now, darling. I want to watch you.”

Clover cried out, the sensation overwhelming as James hammered his prostate. A few more deep thrusts brought him closer, closer, _over_ the edge. His orgasm rolled through him like a racing chariot, running from the core of his being up through his arched back. He swore he could feel it in his _teeth._ His cock twitched, painting his stomach, and Clover went limp against the glass. James was right behind him, moaning soft and surprisingly tender as he spilled his own release.

They stayed like that for an intense moment, both gasping for breath. James leaned forward, resting his forehead on Clover’s collar. He broke his contact with the stars, coming back down to Remnant and the beautiful man before him.

“Gods, that was… _fuck_ , James.” He reached out, cupping the soft fuzz of James’s chin and tilting his head up. “You are…in a mood today, huh?”

James let out a breath, “A good mood, if that wasn’t clear.”

He brought their lips together in a slow, passionate kiss. When they parted James’s cobalt eyes were fond, almost boyish.

“So you’ll make the chicken?”

Clover barked out a laugh. “I was already going to make the chicken.”

“Good,” James said, gently pulling out. He supported Clover’s hips as he brought his shaky legs to the floor. “Because I was already going to fuck you on this window. I lied, half those constellations aren’t even in this hemisphere.”

Oh, Clover had seen plenty of stars. He tested his weight, wincing at the stiffness in his body.

“Can you stand?”

“I’m fine,” Clover said, engaging his aura to ease the way. Let it never be said that Clover Ebi could be taken out by a single round. “Can _you_ stand?”

James stretched his back, pressing his hands on either side of his metallic spine. He looked like some kind of ancient god. “I’m made of tougher stuff, I assure you. I could’ve kept going.”

Clover shook his head with a smile, kicking off his boots and tugging off the scraps of his once-pristine uniform. “You owe me a new pair of pants. Preferably before I leave this office.”

Hopefully nobody would examine the requisition forms too closely on that one. He could probably just say he spilled coffee and needed an emergency replacement. A perfectly normal mishap for 2200 at night.

“No need,” James said, walking over to the desk. He crouched down with a faint groan, opening up the lowest drawer with a quick thumb scan, and retrieved a crisp pair of white slacks. He placed them on the desk, then turned with a smug expression.

“You…” Clover blinked. “You can’t be serious.”

“Preparation is key,” James reiterated. “I’m afraid I don’t have anything for you to wear underneath them. Ultimately, I decided that part of your uniform was nonessential.”

Only James Ironwood would order extra sets of his uniform in case he ever wanted to rip Clover’s clothes off _in the office_ , reconsider the notion, and then make the executive decision that he preferred his boyfriend going commando.

“Typical,” he said, wiping himself off with his ruined boxers. “You can’t just go for feats of strength. Or endurance. _Oh no_ , you’ve gotta deliver an _astronomy lecture_ as well.”

He tossed the soiled fabric in the garbage, where it sat alone and incriminating in the empty bin. Thank the brothers Atlas only employed drones for cleaning. Sweet, sweet, nonhumanoid drones. With unimpeachable security. He hoped.

James leaned against the desk, extending his hand with a smile. “I’ll have you know that my lecture had to be severely truncated due to your begging. Thankfully the climax was, as per usual, stunning.”

Gods, he was impossible.

Clover shook his head, taking the offered hand. James pulled him close, spinning him around so they were back to back. He settled against the taller man, this time with the sturdy weight of the desk supporting them both. James wrapped his arms around Clover’s midsection as they gazed at the stars, pressing a soft kiss to the side of his mouth.

“Now,” James said, softly. “What did you learn?”

“I learned you keep a full uniform of mine in your office,” Clover said, wryly. “And I thought of another nickname for your dick.”

He actually had about five, but he was waiting for the right moment to strike for this one in particular. It started with ‘Big’ and it was a real groaner. Which felt accurate, to him.

“Clover, no.”

“Clover _yes.”_

James laughed, and Clover couldn’t resist leaning back and giving him another peck on the cheek. James obliged, but then nodded toward the windows.

“It really is a good clear night tonight, even if you can’t see as many stars in Atlas. Someday we’ll go out to the tundra at night, and I’ll teach you for real.”

Clover had another quip about getting a _lecture from the Headmaster_ prepped, but it died on his tongue as he turned to consider the view. He’d grown up in Atlas. He’d never been drawn to the stars, when the earth and water were so fascinating. But it really was a nice night, the whole city below them and the endless sky above. He felt rather small, tucked into James’s arms. A strange and rather welcome feeling. They watched the stars in silence, content to linger in the afterglow.

Finally, James spoke.

“Don’t you think Qrow should have something like this?”

Clover blinked. Was he having an auditory hallucination?

“Qrow should have sex against a window?”

James chuckled, kissing the side of his head. “No, though I do think the Atlas skyline at night is even better when I’ve got my cock in you.”

The skyline was a bit marred by the sweaty imprint their bodies had left on the window. But it _was_ lovely, leaning back against James, feeling warm skin and solid metal behind him while he admired the view.

“Oh, you think I should contact the tourism board? They could put it in the brochure. We could sell tickets.”

“Absolutely not,” James grunted, holding him tighter and giving his earlobe a possessive nip. Clover laughed. He was so easy to rile up.

“I just meant,” James said, letting out a breath. “Qrow deserves to feel close to someone, like we do. He deserves love.”

Clover sucked in a breath, thinking of the tragic life Qrow had led. Of the caring man who had emerged from all that. It was true; Qrow deserved all the love in the world. Someone who made him feel safe and valued and perfect as he was.

“Yeah…he does,” Clover said.

Qrow deserved love, all right. He deserved to stand here looking out into the night, safe in someone’s arms. It just stung a bit, to know Clover wouldn’t be the person to give him that.

“I was thinking,” James said, “Maybe we could help. Well…you specifically, to be honest.”

“…me?” Clover squeaked. Oh, gods. What did _that_ mean?

“You know people,” James continued, oblivious to his shock. “Surely you could think of someone who would be good for Qrow.”

“Oh,” Clover said. _Ohhhhh._

Okay, _that_ made more sense. He couldn’t imagine that James would want _him_ to take…well, _personal command_ of the situation.

James Ironwood did not share. That had been apparent since day one. A week after their first date, James had nearly led a manhunt for a hapless pilot who scrawled ‘ _for a good time call Easy Ebi,’_ followed by his (outdated, thank the Brothers) scroll number on the wall behind the facilities office where people liked to fool around. There was a certain subset of his Academy cohort who whom ‘getting lucky’ exclusively meant hooking up with Clover, and they had all hit mysterious stalls in their careers in the last year.

“I mean, I could think of a few people…” Clover said, hesitantly. It certainly might help the Qrow situation, if he knew the man was happy with someone else. And he _did_ want Qrow to be happy. But that same situation made it a little awkward to try to find Qrow a partner without breaking…certain rules. Being alone, together.

The other major complication was that everyone Clover could think of who might be remotely suitable for Qrow was someone Clover had already slept with. Which would probably not go over well with James.

Maybe other genders were a better bet. Qrow was bi, right? _Think, Clover. Who else do you know who’s single and into guys?_

Those two qualifiers did not go well together. Clearly, he needed to put a bit more thought into this.

“I’ll start a list of candidates,” he said, breaking loose from the circle of James’s arms. He grabbed his scroll, pacing as he made a few notes. He’d been in his relationship bubble for too long; he needed to gather information. Tomorrow he could make some social calls, drop in on the places people congregated during downtime, and scope out who was currently unattached and interested.

And he could plan a dinner party menu, too. Damn, it felt good to have a project. Or five.

The little tingle he got when compiling a really important intelligence report started in the back of his head. “Once I have a feel of the ground game I’ll take it to Qrow. If there’s anyone he’s interested in I can make the introduction.”

He looked up, to find James watching him with an amused eye. “What?”

“Nothing,” James said, with a cocky smile. “I was just thinking we should have all our meetings with you naked and covered in cum.”

Clover flushed, looking down. “Did I miss a spot?”

“No,” James said, hitting the button on his desk that raised the office’s central console. The console flickered to life, displaying some…frankly top-secret plans in light dust above the solid central panel.

“Which is a shame. And as your General I cannot stand for this brazen uniform infraction. I feel that I should deal with the situation _personally,_ before our next meeting.”

James Ironwood did not share, but he was also kind of a kinky bastard. A kinky bastard who was especially horny tonight for some reason, and Clover was here for it. He stood at attention.

“Yes, sir!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to he a SHORT SCENE and then James and Clover started having WINDOW SEX and now I owe Qrow SO MANY ORGASMS THAT HE HAS MISSED BECAUSE OF THESE DUMN DINGUSES.
> 
> ...okay let's be fair he's gonna get it back with interest from these two overachievers.


End file.
